Arabian Nights
by silmelinde
Summary: Based on Disney Aladdin and Justice League. When the Sultan's health fails, he appeals to his sister to find a suitable match capable of ruling the city after him. The power hungry vizier nurtures the plans to take control, but he faces an unexpected obstacle in a common thief.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Disney or Justice League. I make no profit from my scribbles.

Warning: Mild profanities.

There won't be any talking monkeys or parrots in this story, so I've modified some of the characters to be human and slightly altered their relationships in the interest of the narrative.

Lex Luthor: Jafar

Flash Iago: Jafar's servant and an errand boy

Kal-El: The Sultan of Agrabah/Metropolis

Diana: Sultan's sister/Princess Jasmine

Shayera Hol: The Captain of the Metropolis Guard/Razoul

Al-Wayne: Aladdin

GL Abu: Aladdin's best friend

J'onn J'onzz: Genie of the Lamp

Louis Lane: Palace Physician

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

"Man! This is the first and last time I'm cooperating with the Copperhead's gang! I knew we shouldn't have trusted that poison-fanged creep."

An arrow embedded itself into a wooden plank half an inch away from his head and GL Abu sharply turned into a twisted alley where the archers didn't have a clear leeway to shoot at them.

"We didn't," his tight lipped companion grunted in reply, knocking over a pile of orange crates they breezed by to delay the pursuers. They might have managed to lose half of the guards during the chase, however, this time they've pissed off the palace convoy as well as vizier's personal goons.

"I suppose not. Else we'd be hugging the dungeon rats by now." GL winced at the thought of being tossed into a stone well without fanfares.

Al-Wayne's tinkered devices and a perfectly executed backup plan may have gotten them out of the immediate danger, but this was no ordinary chase where a couple of law enforcers would half-heartedly follow the thieves before letting them be in favour of greater problems than a few stolen apples.

Normally, the pair had nothing to do with the dominant gangs. The friendship they shared was enough to sustain them and to keep them out of other alliances. They stole enough to get by with the basic necessities like food, leaving it up to the bigger groups to build grandiose plans. However, neither he nor Wayne were able to resist an offer where the successful outcome guaranteed to sustain a decent lifestyle at least for two years without stealing.

An informant brought a leaked information to Copperhead's ears that Vizier was transporting a part of his extensive treasury and there was a way to blend in with the convoy. This is where the snake-face figured that his regular cronies good for frontal assaults lacked in the brains department to pull it off and he appealed to the man who had a reputation for stealth and subtlety - Wayne.

Al was reluctant. Hell, they both were. In his usual mysterious manner, his friend disappeared for a full night to re-investigate the information, having no trust for sources other than himself. To GL's surprise, when he re-appeared Wayne agreed. And that's how they got sucked into this mess. Everything went smoothly according to plan with the two of them blending in with the Vizier's henchmen, while the Copperheads lurked around to provide backup. What they didn't count on was the palace convoy joining the ranks, which eventually led to their exposure and one hell of a chase. A handful of guards relentlessly followed him and Wayne into the slums where a trail of barking dogs disturbed by the commotion left a howling wake on their heels for the pursuers to follow.

In despair, Wayne kicked open one of the side doors. No one was home as the pair bolted through the house upstairs out onto the open balcony where they leaped over the railing of the next house and GL crashed heavily behind the railing that was shielded by carpets. Wayne crouched beside his companion, who was trying to catch his breath. A dark scowl marred Al's features as he brought a finger up to his lips, silently commanding his friend to even out his far too loud breathing.

A woman stepped onto the balcony flanked by the guards. The gold and black uniform she wore spoke of status. The upper part of her face was hidden beneath a helmet carved as a beak and a pair of spread wings. The hawkish glare she scanned the surroundings with penetrated the carpets the pair was hiding behind. GL instinctively shrunk into a ball.

"They're gone. Should we abandon the chase, Captain?" one of the man addressed her. He seemed surprised by the woman's participation. It was beneath the Captain of the Metropolis Guard to chase a couple of common street rats around the alleys. Today, she made an exception.

"Of course not!" she snapped irritably. "They've infiltrated and tried to rob the Sultan's transport! I want to know who put them up to it!"

That was a fair question, GL acknowledged, not that he sympathised with someone who hounded him. He actually didn't mind telling her about the Copperhead who as good as set up him and Wayne to be captured. But, what was he suppose to say, 'Oh sorry, we meant to rob the Vizier, not the Sultan? Please don't cut off our ears before tossing our butts into desert to die?'

The guard seemed put out by the superior's waspish response. He looked ready to fall flat on his face from exhaustion. GL hardly blamed him. His own leg was starting to feel like a dozen blacksmiths were pounding inside it. Sure, he was still in good physical shape and could sprint with the best of them, but old injuries always clawed their way to the surface. He was no longer up for the long-term marathons this pursuit turned into.

GL caught a rare glimpse of concern in his friend's blue eyes when Al looked at him before the shield went back up and they filled with brooding. Wayne was trying to find a way out of this. He was torn by guilt as well as mute fury after he followed a false lead like a newborn. There was a stark difference between robbing the Vizier, who no matter how influential was still a citizen, versus robbing the Sultan who represented the state. In terms of punishment that meant either a few years in prison or execution. GL liked his head where it was.

Yet, the punishment wasn't what bothered him the most, and he was even more bothered that this even entered his mind. It was the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that didn't settle right about robbing the rightful authorities who represented all people in the city. The Sultan was popular, much unlike his advisor. Luthor was feared and the economic policies he was slowly imposing on the trade were ruthless, bringing more and more under his control. There were subdued whispers about his underhanded dealings with plenty of shady characters. Not that any of this had proof. Luthor was master at covering his tracks. GL felt satisfaction at the thought of taking a chunk out of the finances of the biggest crook in the desert who in the eyes of the law kept the innocence of a sheep that went baaa.

They should have known that crippling Luthor wouldn't be so easy and that fate wasn't in their corner this day. Just as the guards were about to depart to search for the tracks, the balcony door slid open, admitting the house owner. The woman's eyes doubled in size at the sight of two rugged men lounging on her property. Her piercing shriek gave away their whereabouts.

With nowhere to go other than down, the duo jumped from the second storey into a malignant trash pile that smelled even worse than it looked. Kill Copperhead. GL shook off a rotten banana peel from his head and waved away a pack of flies with the other hand. The ground was slippery from the putrid goo stuck on the soles of their shoes.

At least the guards took the stairs, which bought them valuable time. They raced into the shadiest alley around only to be confronted by a dead end. The towering buildings without doors or windows mocked the escapees with their roughness and a huge wall dully glittered in the noon light.

"Got any wings to spare?" GL quipped with a pound of salt laced into each syllable.

Unimpressed by complaints, Al reached into one of his belt pockets. The modest piece of material held wondrous inventions that regularly saved their hides. One of them was a grappling hook. Expertly, Wayne hooked the upper part of the wall with it and began climbing with the agility even the monkeys would die in envy of. Not that he intended to inflate his friend's ego with confessions, but GL secretly thought Wayne was a genius. He followed Wayne, albeit sceptically, when common sense was telling him how the impossibly thin rope should have snapped under the weight of one, never mind two men. Yet, it held steady until Al gripped his arm to scale the top. They removed the rope not a moment too soon because they had company. The Captain was glaring draggers at the criminals from the bottom.

"Hold it right there!" she yelled, the promise of 'or else' retribution etched into each syllable.

"Yeah right," GL quipped, taking his sweet time to climb down on the other side. It didn't hurt to finally catch a breath. There was no way the guards were going to scale the wall without the rope. "Lost them," he announced with satisfaction.

"Heeeeyaaaaaaaaaah!"

GL's jaw dropped and landed somewhere on the ground unchecked. With a battle cry, the Captain vaulted over the wall. The folds of her brown cape spread like the wings. What land did she come from and did they have the word 'give up' in their dictionaries?

Wayne smoothly evaded a mean left hook as soon as her feet touched the ground. GL noted the rest of the guards didn't follow her. There were two of them and one of her. Maybe they could knock her ou..." The thought was terminated by a mace, which so far had rested on her hip, breezing a hair width past his temple and smashing into a barrel. The impact shattered the wood. Leave it to the Sultan to hire a wrathful harpy. And this one looked like she wanted to take a chunk out of his ass. Even with the military past, he had trouble blocking her kicks and punches.

The saving grace came in form of a wet sheet that landed atop the woman. A strong hand grabbed GL, pulling him up on a ledge. With far greater vigour than he demonstrated going down the wall, GL climbed higher away from the danger, while the Captain cursed, disentangling the sheet folds from her helmet.

"Bravo! Bravo!"

An obnoxious, theatrical applause resounded down the alley. Shayera turned to face a new threat. Her knuckles tensed and her grip tightened on the weapon as a group of thugs unhurriedly approached her. Judging by the unconcealed weapons and a loose swagger, these people believed they owned the place. They stopped a few feet away, trailing greedy gazes over the target's expensive attire.

GL recognised one of the most notorious gangs to whom human life meant nothing. The Sultan was going to need a new Captain of Guard. Better them getting her than she getting us, GL supposed. He tried to ignore a nasty knot that formed somewhere in his gut and prepared to depart. He almost grew to like the woman, almost.

Throwing a side glance at his friend, GL felt like smacking his head against the wall. Al-Wayne was still as a gargoyle statue. An antipathy radiated from his form. The intensity of his gaze was enough to burn a hole in the skull of the gang's leader as he watched the confrontation that unfolded below. Unaware of the wrathful scrutiny, the man laughed. The red outline that went around his mouth and stretched nearly ear to ear in a wide grin was ever mocking and in stark contrast with the white, chalk covered face.

GL had a sinking feeling that their adventures for the day weren't over yet.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for reviewing. I'm glad this idea gathered a bit of interest. I wanted to write something small for JL, but I felt it won't be very exciting to do another OC, so I tried my best to come up with an unusual setting, such as mixing JL with a fairy tale. It seems like a fun experiment.

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

Shayera positioned herself for a fight. Having a wall at her back and seven thugs in front wasn't very comforting. This served to fuel her anger and sharpen the battle instincts, especially falling short on the patience when the clown they had for a leader launched into a most irksome monologue.

"The brave Captain of the Guard is cleaning up our town by demolishing the laundry with her power mace!" Touching the fingertips to his chest, the Joker leaned in slightly in mockery of a bow, flailing the other arm outward. "Refined gentlemen, we must give all due consideration to her dangerous assignment!"

Most likely he expected some laughs, but nobody got the humour. One of the 'refined gentlemen' plucked a chunk of mould out of his ear and a green fly came buzzing out of it. There wasn't much comprehension yet as to where this speech was going in his heavily-lidded eye.

"It's a heart wrenching story how she hounds the streets day and night so no evil-doer can attack the citizens, the way she foils the robberies and interferes in our fights. The guards at her command capture, tie up and toss into jail all those who seek to make way in the world through the various crimes. She is the executioner of evil who today ventured alone in our part of the city."

"Sorry, I wasn't planning on sending out the sympathy cards," Shayera sneered.

The other spectators of this show were far more touched. With each word the thugs looked more upset as if they were about to cry. A woman draped in a red outfit and harem trousers pulled out a huge chequered handkerchief from her sleeve and blew her nose loudly into it.

"Oh, Sherbet Cone, that's so sad!" she wailed.

Joker's cheek twitched in annoyance.

"Harley..." he drawled out nicely. "Never call me Sherbet Cone!" he yelled into her ear when the woman turned a shining face to him.

"Sorry, Master J!"

"If you clowns are done wasting my time, I'd like to return to the list of duties you've so keenly outlined."

"Clowns?" Harley exclaimed scandalized. "How rude! We should chop her into salami!"

A grin quickly re-surfaced on the Joker's long face. "Please proceed," he called out happily.

Nobody moved.

"Kill her, you muttonheaded scoundrels!"

This command had a greater effect. GL had to admire the woman's technique as she went about fighting off the odds that clearly stank. In the gold uniform, she looked the part of a lioness surrounded by greedy hyenas. Her red hair fanned out and blazed in the sun just like the fiery temper as the woman moved. The first contender for her head was doubled over in half by a vicious kick and the second encountered the mace directly with his face. He went down like a sack of potatoes and didn't get up. GL was pretty sure that guy was going to wake up with half of his teeth missing. The rest of the gang got the forceful message that charging like a disorganised pack of baboons wasn't going to intimidate the target the way they usually frightened normal people out of their wits. They attempted to surround her, looking for the opening, but the Captain had none of it and charged the man closest to her who relied on brute strength rather than skill to block the assault. A feigned attack and then another kick sent him on the ground and she spun around, facing another opponent.

"She can't do that!" Harley shouted, wrinkling the handkerchief. "Something's fishy!"

"Fishy?" Joker's grin became malignant. He opened his jacket to pull out a wiggling, grey fish from his inside pocket, and took a dramatic aim as if he was playing petanque.

The fish landed spot on under the woman's foot as she took a step back out of a slash. Using the moment when the Captain lost balance, Harley pounced. Both of her feet rammed into Shayera's chest, throwing her back against the wall winded. The back of her head cracked hard against the stone, momentarily blurring the vision. In the blind, the Captain slid her hand along the ground in search of a dropped mace. She wasn't going to find it before a swiftly moving opponent moved in for the kill with a raised sabre.

 _Just when I won a night off in dice._

The blow never came. A curved, metal object sliced the air and crashed directly into Harley's wrist, drawing blood. She hadn't a moment to dwell on what disarmed her because a pile of wet shirts and underpants rained down on the fighting field.

Al-Wayne swung down on the rope, taking grim satisfaction in hitting one of the thugs with his foot in midair and crashing his fist into another's skull, clearing a path to Joker.

 _He just had to pick this fight_.

GL rolled his eyes, nudging a heavy pot with his foot off the ledge. It landed with a satisfactory thud onto the guy who was sneaking up on Wayne with a stiletto. GL was about to climb down to help his friend when a commotion nearby alarmed him. The guards found a way to scale the wall and joined their Captain. They didn't look hesitant to put an end to all chases by joining the fray.

"No fair brining back up!" Harley squealed. Tears sprung out of the corners of her eyes.

True to the motto, 'Those who fight and run away shall live to fight another day' the Joker tossed a handful of plant-based marbles onto the dirt road that exploded into a putrid cloud. Even from the elevated position, GL lost track of his friend in the yellow smoke that filled the area, but he didn't doubt Wayne's ability to disappear discretely in mayhem.

"Come back and fight, you cowards!" Shayera yelled, sensing that bandits were slipping away. Her voice cracked under a coughing fit as she inhaled the pungent smoke.

GL snorted. When she yelled like that in this shady neighbourhood, even those who hadn't done anything recently scattered like cockroaches away from the collateral damage. He quickly followed everyone's fine example to vamoose.

When the smoke cleared, the only bounty left for the guards were two thugs abandoned by their gang, who were knocked out cold by the mace and the pot plant.

"Drag this to the dungeons for interrogation," Shayera jammed her finger at the pair that was still observing the spinning stars before turning sharp on her heel to lead the way.

Tiredness didn't show in her confident stride, but it settled in once the chase was over. The incident produced a lot more questions than answers. Aside from the obvious who leaked the information, she wondered why her life had been spared, while the fight played out vividly in her mind. If this was a brawl between two competing gangs, then why did one side went into trouble to disarm Harley when every thug in the city preferred the Captain of the Guard dead? Maybe out of pettiness to rob Joker of the bragging rights? Shayera found no explanation. Owing her life to a criminal displeased her. More so, it planted the seeds of doubt in her uncompromising nature when it came to crime and punishment. The world was simpler as black and white where she knew her enemy without the second thoughts. She didn't think she'd be able to identify the pair that slipped past the defences. Those two kept their features well hidden, even while performing some impressive acrobatic stunts to shake off the pursuit. There was something different about them.

Occasionally, she sought a second opinion to clarify the situation, preferably from someone open minded. The attempted robbery had to be reported to the Sultan. Duty, however, was a convenient excuse. Admittedly, an empty part of her simply wanted to talk to him and get validation that he was all right. There were days when she would have given anything for one of their former sparring matches. Woefully few opponents were capable of challenging her one on one for it to be fun. Kal-El, that's what he insisted on being called during the training, rarely yielded to anyone. Whenever he did, she was left with a strong impression that it was by choice. Sometimes, she felt that his main struggle was not the lack of power, but threading a fine line of having too much of it and being charged with using it with great care. His calm presence was often enough to curb her temper. Superman - she nicknamed him in jest after one of their most intense matches. The name stuck for occasional teasing whenever the occasion allowed to bring down the form barrier.

Like a handful of water trickling through the fingers, that time slipped away from them and got replaced by Luthor's laws everywhere. She was sick of encountering the vizier's arrogant face every day in the palace where he ordered everyone about like he owned Metropolis. A shameful fear for the future gradually crept up on her as the Sultan's illness progressed. She could bust all the thugs she wanted, but it meant nothing without a good leader to guide the law enforcement properly and rightfully. Else, before they knew it, they'd be honouring Joker as an upstanding citizen and jailing poor scapegoats who crossed him.

Her gaze rose to the magnificent structure that overlooked the entire city and the golden domes the shine of which reached the caravans and guided them like a beacon from miles away across the hot sands. And she questioned who ruled behind its white marble walls.

* * *

The position Kal-El chose to watch the meeting kept him concealed from the participants while giving him a clear view of the audience hall. It felt wrong to sneak around the palace on the basis of suspecting his advisor. Yet, the pangs of dislike for the man paired with the constant complaints, prompted him to observe Luthor who was negotiating a petition that came from a group of merchants who bunched together in a rather wide hall as if to seek the support from one another in forwarding their cause. The vizier listened with a look of resigned irony like that matter was long settled and he couldn't explain to the petulant children why, which did not raise his credibility in the Sultan's eyes.

Nonetheless, he was not evaluating the man's likeability. Kal-El disentangled his personal feelings from the vizier's professional qualities. Luthor was brilliant when it came to politics and unmatched in manipulating the economy. Being disliked by the Sultan didn't mean he could not hold one of the highest positions in the city. The cause for alarm stemmed from the emerging doubts how much was Luthor using those skills in favour of the city and how much for his personal gain. Of course, someone like that would be selfish, but it was far fetched to believe every wild rumour that the vizier would burn and betray Metropolis for an extra pot of gold. Every man who had power was subjected to heavy criticism. Kal-El knew he wasn't an exception to that rule. Had he believed everything said about the Sultan, he would have been forced to banish himself into the desert too with Luthor for company.

Kal-El wasn't sure what devious plans Luthor may or may not have been weaving, however, he strongly disapproved of the present situation that unfolded before him. Short, erratic pulses were building up in his temples. It was best to interfere before the pain returned full force and robbed him of the ability to think clearly.


	3. Chapter 3

Someone mentioned this, so I thought I'd explain my reasoning.

While Batman was eventually picked as the main hero, the world did not revolve around him when I was choosing which Disney cartoon I'm going to blend the story with. I was not trying to find a Disney character that looks the most like Batman and therefore I did not pick Darkwing Duck. My logic was to find an adventure based story where I could give roles to seven JL heroes.

When I did, I decided that Batman fits Aladdin better than other heroes because they both share the ability to use their street wits to outmanoeuvre their opponents. They both know their cities very well and use that knowledge to their advantage. While Aladdin doesn't have fancy gadgets, he always uses all sorts of surrounding objects to assist him. They use agility, stealth and wit to win.

Secondly, I chose him because Diana is the Princess in this story and I favour Batman/Wonder Woman ship. Therefore, the amount of money was not my greatest consideration when I was distributing the roles, though, if that must be pointed out, once Aladdin gets the lamp he becomes richer than a king. Nonetheless, Flash was my second choice for Aladdin. It's just that I don't feel like doing Flash/WW ship. That's probably what tipped the scale for me.

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

The spokesman was a middle aged man with an open face tanned by a sun. He voiced concerns without going into extremes of grovelling or aggression to the man seated in an elevated chair. In his hand the advisor gripped a redwood staff crowned by gems that was a symbol of authority. Normally, this was Kal-El's place when he worked with petitions and delegates.

"The new tax on trade shifts the market in favour of the larger organizations. The local small stall owners are either forced to merge or be ruined. The first is not feasible for the majority. Otherwise well off families are going to lose their means of living and starve."

"As the men of common sense, we shouldn't fall victim to dramatisation," Luthor drawled out smoothly. "The commoners tend to cling to the familiar, while commerce implies change and fluidity. We cannot assign a sole blame on the new law for the failing enterprises that might as well have been caused by personal negligence." The vizier's gaze shifted to the poorly dressed part of the group that fell victim to the policy, daring them to contradict. "The law benefits the city on the greater scale. The state cannot sacrifice those interests for a few minor failures."

"The state would not consider the spread of poverty an insignificant matter regardless of the reward."

It did not ring loud; yet, the statement carried clearly across the hall and stunned those present into silence. Ignoring the malignant weakness that sunk deep into his bones, Kal-El squared his shoulders to make way to the arguing parties. He looked nearly detached, all the while observing the reactions to his appearance. The merchants regarded him with hope. Luthor was forced to abandon the seat of power swiftly like he had done something wrong. Because the Sultan walked in the middle, the vizier moved to greet him humbly, concealing his annoyance.

"I do not believe these new laws were implemented," the Sultan reminded. "The last time we had this discussion, they were still being evaluated."

The staff lightly tapped a hollow sound against the marble tiles as the vizier approached.

"Given the ambiguous end of our debate that led to your retirement, I interpreted it as trust in my abilities to finalise the outcome in the city's best interest."

If there was a hidden barb, Luthor did not show it, but he was aware that Sultan did not wish to showcase his illness.

"I appreciate your zeal to serve the city and ask that you make no assumptions on my behalf that lead to our laws being upturned. I will decide what is best for Metropolis."

Luthor tilted his head in acknowledgement of this right. It was a pretext to hide a flash of anger that twisted his face. When he straightened, it was gone.

The Sultan inwardly winced, unwilling to make enemy of Luthor. The statement came out harsher than he intended. The hammering in his head was making it difficult to find diplomatic ways of stating his displeasure. It could have been a misunderstanding or he caught Luthor scheming behind his back. That didn't mean he intended to admonish the advisor in public. Luthor's pride didn't stand for it.

"The petition for the local merchants to operate under traditional laws will be satisfied. Those who were negatively impacted by its untimely implementation will be compensated."

Luthor's mood soured at the recognition that compensation was going to come out of his personal vaults. He swallowed a lump of fury, while the Sultan personally signed the document.

The merchants surrounded Kal-El to express their gratitude. Briefly, he felt better as they wished him good health. The pain flared anew once they filtered out of the hall with the last bows and murmured thanks.

The vizier was subjected to silent treatment once they were left alone. An intense stare bore into him as the ruler stood with this arms folded across his chest. Luthor summoned all the patience he could master to avoid betraying his hate when Kal-El chastised him.

"Luthor, you are never left out of any important discussions that concern the city's welfare. After many years of service, your advice is invaluable. While I appreciate your work, our debates are to remain private. I don't want to be questioned in public once the decision is made because this might be misunderstood as lack of consensus and stability. I don't want people to feel unsafe."

"I apologize for hasty conclusions. All my actions were in Metropolis' best interests."

Kal-El wished he could discern the sincerity of those words, but they were reaching him from a distance. The room treacherously swum before his eyes. Was he fair to Luthor? Great many responsibilities came to rest on the vizier's shoulders and Kal-El couldn't escape guilt. He should have been strong enough to carry out his duty. If only the fog shrouding his mind receded, he knew he would have been able to run the affairs.

"I would like..." he paused to recall the order that had to be passed. The predatory gleam in the vizier's eyes must have been a part of his imagination. "The new law to be recalled immediately. I did not wish to authorise it until I heard the alternative points of view. Now that I have, I feel that traditional law served our city well in the past and that must not change."

Thousands of needles were piercing his mind. The room alarmingly tilted and his knees nearly buckled. He must have swayed because the advisor grabbed his arm to steady him. The man's nearness was suffocating.

"Summon the palace physician! Now!" Luthor shouted at the servants.

The numerous skeletal arms of the enemies long defeated stretched towards Kal-El through the fog and wrapped bony fingers around his throat. They wanted the victim to fall on his knees, so they could drag him into the grave with them. With the greatest effort, the Sultan fought off the vertigo and found the strength to distance himself from the vizier.

"Alert me should an emergency arise," he ordered. "I will be in my room."

Someone touched his elbow. He silently welcomed the presence of Lois Lane.

"Please allow me to accompany you."

There was unveiled concern in her eyes he could never say no to. Not that she truly required permission. 'I'll get in through your window to kick your behind if you don't,' wasn't difficult to discern between the words spoken for politeness sake.

It was an irritable picture how much attention she was giving him, Luthor considered. Turning his back to the audience hall, he kept up a mournful appearance until he stepped out onto a balcony where he allowed a hint of his true feelings to surface. The entire city stretched out towards the reddening horizon like in a palm of his hand. These hues coloured the city walls in bloody shades. So, the Sultan still thought he ruled Metropolis and even found the audacity to interfere with his plans. In the grand scheme it was a minor setback, bothersome as it was. Luthor only wished he could speed up the fatal process.

The advisor tilted his staff to admire a dangerous glimmer of the centrepiece. A green stone topping the magical staff was as beautiful as it was deadly. Truly, if you wanted to hide something well, it was best to leave it under everyone's noses. It was an ideal weapon that left no traces of poisoning or violence on the victim's body.

He found the kryptonite in the remnants of a village annihilated by a mad sorcerer referred to as Brainiac. Whoever he was, Luthor owed him thanks. It didn't take long for the most powerful magician in the desert to recognise that the stone had special properties. When its power was focused on one person the magic subtly deteriorated their health, growing worse until the victim died in terrible pain. Kal-El was going to be destroyed just like his father.

An unpleasant sensation alerted him that he was no longer alone. Luthor turned under a spiky gaze aimed at burning a hole in his back. It brought him no pleasure to find the Captain standing behind him. Now, there was a constant thorn in his side. Shayera always looked at him like she suspected him of all sins a man could fall subject to. A rather irksome surveillance for someone who had much to hide. Luthor even considered arranging a subtle accident to befall the city's hero.

"I expected to find the Sultan here," Shayera declared. The undertone clearly implied that this was another man's rightful place and anyone else caught replacing them, especially the vizier, was an impostor. That's why it brought him great deal of satisfaction to deny her.

"I'm dreadfully sorry to inform you, the Sultan retired and he does not wish to be disturbed. Whatever audience you have planned with him must be cancelled."

The disappointment didn't show on her face, despite the news feeling like a stab in the gut. "I will speak with the Sultan when he becomes available," Shayera responded, sharply turning on her heels to take leave. She was damned if Luthor was going to decide what she could or could not do.

Truly, that woman's temper was going to lead to her demise one happy day. But, he hadn't the time to indulge in idle musings. Luthor had an informant to meet.


	4. Chapter 4

It seems some predictions are coming true.

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

Lois Lane was used to others struggling to keep up with her. It was a unique experience having to move faster than at her usual pace to stay by the Sultan's side. His strides were wide and fast, giving away little of the malignant weakness. Yet, all she had to do was chance looking up at his face to find the alarming traces of how close he was to collapsing. The unwillingness to burden others was a thin thread keeping him on his feet. This nearly prompted her to reach out and take his hand, not as a healer who would assess his health but out of genuine concern and desire to offer moral support. No doubt such overly familiar gesture towards a man far above her station would have been frowned on and most likely shock him. All that remained was waking half a step behind, close enough for his cloak folds to brush her arm occasionally, while there was an unsurpassable distance between them.

Only once they were shielded from the casual observers in his room, did Kal-El lean against the wall.

"Should I call for a maid?" Lois voiced over a lump in her throat. "You need to lie down."

The Sultan shook his head before wearily walking over to sit down his bed. He looked lost, running a hand across his face like he was trying to remember what he should do next. _You'll make the flowers wither in depression._ The affectionate barbs she regularly used to lighten the mood didn't ring remotely uplifting. She was split between shaking him and leaning against his chest to cry out all the frustration that nothing she did was helping.

Lois settled for coming to his side to help remove the knee high boots. Kal-El made a gesture to stop her as it wasn't her job, but then let her have her way. He better appreciate it, she thought bemused. You're growing soft Lois. She proceeded to unclasp the broach securing the cloak. The soft material slid from the broad shoulders onto the bed lifelessly.

"Sultan?" she spoke up, trying to catch his gaze. He reacted to the call, but there was no clarity of thought in his eyes. "I'm going to make a potion to dull the pain."

At a small nod, Lois moved across the room to a sizable table where her healing herbs, books and instruments gradually took residence. Sadly, her services were needed far too often. The reluctance to leave his side for a few moments raised ridiculous sentiments. Surely, he wasn't going to disappear when she stepped away. She could have made the mixture with her eyes closed, but every ingredient was measured to perfection. While the professional pride was important, the care she put into creating the drink reflected far deeper feelings.

She shouldn't have looked into his eyes. The expression in them held a heart melting warmth and integrity. As someone running the most influential city in the land, Kal-El was subjected to many temptations and corruption. In all this he managed to preserve the honesty and simplicity found in small settlements so different from the greater world. In them remained a naivety-shaded set of values. Occasionally, her tongue itched to call him 'Smallville.' There certainly was a nice 'S' in both the Sultan and Smallville.

When she returned with the potion, Kal-El already reclined in bed. The blanket slid down to his waist, exposing the nearly flawless planes of his chest. Reality to Lois. You're suppose to heal him, not succumb to the shameless gawking. The well meaning sentiments of reason were sacrificed at the altar of raw emotions. When she lifted the cup to his lips, his hand wrapped around hers and the glass to support it. Why was it so difficult to distance herself from those feelings? Of all the men in the city, she had to pick the one she hadn't a prayer of getting.

"Please do what you can," he requested. "Diana is returning tomorrow. I would like to welcome her properly."

"I'm glad to hear she's coming home."

The princess had a good heart. By sharing responsibilities and having her council, the Sultan's duty became easier. Her return gave Lois hope that the vizier will be put back in his place.

The physician's heart twisted painfully. Kal-El needed all the help he could get. Her touch lingered a little longer than necessary when she brushed a dark lock from his face. His forehead was far too warm with a few beads of sweat appearing. When she tried to rise to mix a potion against the growing fever, her wrist was caught in a gentle grasp.

"Stay."

The request must have been fever induced. Feeling like all fight went out of her, Lois perched on the bed's edge, maintaining their contact. Her hand was so small in his grasp, yet he was relying on her strength. It wasn't like her to let down the one she cared for. Lois had to fight tooth and nail in the society mostly closed off to women's success to earn recognition as the best physician in the city, worthy of the post at the palace. She had to impress by knowing off the top of her head what others had to look up in the books. Faster than anyone, she was obligated to identify the ailments' symptoms, both local and foreign, and remain unmatched in using the traditional medicines as well as improvisation to cure the patients. It was ironic, with all that knowledge she was reduced to no better solution than holding his hand while the Sultan fought for his life and no enlightenment was coming.

"I won't let you die," she vowed once his eyes closed and he drifted into a restless sleep. Lois Lane was going to get to the root of the problem.

* * *

The Copperhead's gang resided in the north part of the city in a shady building beset with the base compliment of women and drink that served as a safe ground for its members. This is where the important decisions were made, such as tonight when the gathering was called to discuss the unsuccessful attack on the vizier's transport. Most importantly, they wanted to identify the guilty party who would pay at best by getting the shit beaten out of them and at worst have their throat cut there and then.

Iago hadn't been looking forward to this meeting because he was the one who indirectly let this information slip in various conversations. He doubted they could trace exactly who was responsible, but even a remote chance to end up as the scapegoat to be skinned alive wasn't a cheerful prospect. Luckily, Copperhead was inclined to blame the outsiders. He sent people to check whether GL and Wayne were tossed into any jail or managed to escape. Undoubtedly, he thought those two would betray him should the situation turn ugly. If worse came to worse, Copperhead made arrangements to dispose of the unreliable partners before they alerted the authorities.

Poor chums. Lavishly stroking two curvy hips in his grasp while lounging on a pillow pile, Iago calculated the right moment to slip out. After the meeting broke up, the participants occupied themselves with the entertainment.

"Sorry ladies, I got errands to run, empty pockets to fill," Iago grinned as he hopped onto his feet smoothly.

"Awww, Flash, come back soon," the women pouted with more sincerity once he presented them with coin for their services. He flashed them a brilliant smile before stepping out of the dimly lit building onto a crooked street no honest citizen traversed at night. The nickname he came up with on the spot when he was blending in with the gang resonated well with him. It stuck due to his ability to get from one end of the town to the next faster than anyone, an ability the gang leader appreciated. Copperhead had some unusual abilities of his own. Flash was pretty sure his fangs really were poisoned. Gross! How did he brave carrying such a deadly weapon in his mouth? Maybe he developed immunity because his mother fed that poison to him in small dozes since childhood. In any case, Iago was sick and tired of mingling with the scoundrels. Hopefully, his master's plans were fulfilled and he'd be allowed to return to the palace where a hot bath was calling his name. It would have been divine to wash off all the slime.

Usually, Flash didn't like some of the personal favours Luthor asked of him and ended up doing them anyway. The vizier was far too eloquent, easily flooding his mind with the idea that sometimes it was necessary make personal sacrifices by cooperating with the lesser evil to bring down the greater one. Before the assignment, Flash was informed that a band of cut-throat thieves was on the loose and they were far too aggressive in harassing the citizens. In order to lure them out, an impressive bait had to be thrown their way. Flash had the honorary mission to do it, as well as to observe and report everything back to Luthor.

Easier said than done. Someone was following him the moment he set foot outside the hideout. Copperhead must have grown suspicious of the new guy. Flash rolled his eyes. The following thug was about as stealthy as an elephant in a pottery shop. See you later, slowpoke. Flash bolted left into an alley and put on an amazing burst of speed, disappearing from sight before his pursuer rounded the corner. Flash chuckled at how easy that was. He was willing to bet, the thug wasn't eager to get slapped down for losing the man he was suppose to watch. The next day he'd report to Copperhead that the new guy had done nothing more than consumed booze in a random pub all night long.

Flash made it to the palace without farther adventures, excluding a couple of shady characters who gave him a proprietary look on the way. A silent sign used by the Copperheads and an overly-confident posture like he owned the place dissuaded them from doing anything too stupid.

Not sure the way he looked would be appreciated or even recognised by the guards, Flash slipped in through the vizier's personal entrance and followed a staircase to a secret lab. The room had a duel effect of giving him the creeps, while sparking his curiosity at the sight of the wacky objects and shimmering orbs scattered across the room. Looking around idly as he waited, Flash considered that this place could have supported the rumours of Luthor being a dark sorcerer, a bogus idea, really. He had never seen Luthor use magic. The man had a broad range of interests. It wasn't that strange to collect artefacts. Flash was going to poke an green vial inside of which bubbled an acidic green substance when someone discretely cleared their throat behind him. This startled Flash enough to jump and pull his hand away quickly.

"Welcome back, Iago. I trust your mission was productive?" The vizier's mood was amiable as he unhurriedly crossed the room to take a seat in a lavish armchair wedged between two towering cabinets.

"It depends on what's considered successful," Flash shrugged. In his opinion if that was a trap to capture the gang, then they failed miserably because everyone got away. Not that Luthor needed his opinion. The vizier had plans extending far beyond what the participants could see. Iago's role was one piece of the puzzle. He retold the incident in as much detail as he recalled, then moving on to the meeting and letting Luthor draw personal conclusions. The vizier's face remained impassive throughout the report. Flash hoped his master wasn't planning on sending him back. An informant wasn't the most honourable role in the world even when he was working against the bad guys.

"I expected those thugs wouldn't be able to organise the infiltration alone," Luthor's voice filled the room once Flash stopped talking. "And what were the names of those experts Copperhead used to help him?"

"Oh them, Al-Wayne and GL Abu, I think. Why? Are they important?"

"No," Luthor dismissed like he was simply gathering every minor detail. "It's nothing worthy of notice."

Another person would have been fooled, but Flash had known this man most of his life. Luthor lied.


	5. Chapter 5

Hellooooo! I'm back from a wonderful, sunny vacation to Caribbean, thus the delay in chapters.

I'm excited that more and more heroes of the big seven are being introduced, though sadly it's taking so long for J'onn to get here. This gives me more time to determine his line of behaviour since he is rather different from the Genie.

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

"If I didn't know who you were, I almost would have mistaken you for someone trustworthy," GL voiced a compliment, standing by a crumbled window atop the rooftop where they lived. Bright sunlight flooded the streets below. Even the weather welcomed the upcoming celebration.

"I wouldn't trust you had you dressed as a holy man."

"That's because you don't trust anyone."

The only sign of amusement was a loud exhale as Wayne brushed past him. His entire demeanour was saying, 'Are you going to waste a perfectly good disguise by loafing about or get going?'

GL didn't need a second invitation and smoothly followed Al to the street below. While he wasn't sure where his partner had gotten the disguises, they looked fantastic. The turban decorated by a bright feather made Wayne look like a dandy who was coming to gawk at the procession with the vague hopes of catching the Princess' eye. No one would have recognised a pair of street rats responsible for the recent upheaval in the two finely dressed men.

The pair blended in with the masses heading to the main gate. After a prolonged diplomatic mission, Princess Diana was returning to Metropolis. The festivities were to be held in her honour. A large crowd assembled along the main street to welcome her. Another words, there were plenty of cheering suckers far too distracted by the show to watch their wallets. All petty thieves were highly adept at navigating such gatherings.

Figuring it was best to work both sides of the street, Wayne moved across, choosing a burly man who looked like life was treating him indulgently. The thief was about to deprive him of a hefty wallet when the man jammed a good-natured elbow into his ribs and shouted thunderously. Wayne looked at the source of the commotion and forgot about the gold. The mission to Themyscira was a success, judging by the tired but glowing faces of the party entering the city.

Leading the triumphal procession was a striking young woman. The morning sunlight may have shone equally on everyone, but the whole world centered around her. Even the sun sent its blessings with the rays reflecting off the golden tiara onto her dark hair where they danced in mirth. The Princess forewent the traditional Metropolis dress in favour of a warrior uniform presented to her as a gift by an Amazon Queen. The militant look suited her better than any pretty dress.

Rather than resting in the litter shade, she rode the finest Arabic stallion. Despite the exhausting road Diana revealed no sign of tiredness, keeping an ideal posture in the saddle and holding her head up proudly. Two impressive warriors flanking her, kept a vigilant watch for trouble. What dissuaded overly-enthusiastic advances the most was an Indian tiger trotting by her side. The beast kept its yellow eyes on the crowd, occasionally revealing a razor-sharp set of teeth.

"Hail Princess Diana!"

Wayne nearly succumbed to the ridiculous urge to shout like a blithering simpleton along with everyone else. Mutely, he pushed through the crowd of the happily grinning faces to keep up with the head of the caravan.

Diana tilted her head. Her sapphire gaze swept the crowd. She must have been simply looking at the people in general who were calling her name, but when their eyes met Wayne's soul was upturned. Diana reached into a saddlebag for a handful of coins and small jewels, and with an elegant motion tossed the wealth into the crowd, which elicited more approving shouts.

The bystanders jumped at the generous gift, squabbling over the valuables that landed onto the road. One of the pearls hit Wayne in the chest and his hand closed over it where his heart was. Another elbow from an overly-zealous fanatic jammed into his ribs. Al didn't notice the pain, watching her, only her. If there was a woman one could follow to the edge of the world, it had to be this one.

* * *

No matter how much she enjoyed the mission to Themyscira, Diana was thrilled to be home. The good will emanating from the people lifted her spirit after a difficult road filled with danger. She missed the familiar streets and white walls rising to meet the sky. Most of all, she missed her brother. As much as the enthusiastic greeting made her happy, the royal pace to let everyone view the procession crawled slower than a snail. Diana was tempted to urge her hot-blooded stallion into full gallop to cross the city like the wind. Kal-El was unwell when they parted. As much as it wasn't in her personality to succumb to fear, she was plagued by concern while they were parted. Diana needed to see his face, hear his voice and hug him close. Would he be well enough to greet her? Hera, give him strength. It was a prayer she adopted at the Themyscira. She admired the fierce determination with which the Amazons worshiped their Gods. Diana prayed to her Gods with as much devotion. To them she called for the patience to wait just a little bit longer.

Only when the sun began to set, did the procession reach the inner alley leading to the palace where the caravan separated, granting entry only to Diana and her nearest escort. Joy overtook her when Diana spotted a handsome man waiting on the top step.

"Brother!"

Leaving the mount in the capable hands, she practically flew up the staircase into his arms.

"Welcome home, D. I missed you."

An exuberant hug nearly squeezed all air out of him. To make up for the roughing Diana kissed his cheek tenderly. Kal-El's eyes were filled with happiness at having her back. After a horrible night the pain receded, hiding the phantoms from her.

"I hope your journey went peacefully," Kal-El prompted, holding her back at arm's length to check for the slightest signs of injuries.

"I promise, I behaved well and so have the desert bandits, mother. Had they not, may I remind you who challenged Shayera in the sparring competition last year or do you doubt my ability to defend myself?"

"Your competence is above reproach," Kal-El stirred the conversation into a safer direction. "I was merely calculating how much ransom we could have asked for from the offending party in order to accept you back." He looked so forlorn at missing out on the reward that it earned him a smack.

The world upturned as something big and fury landed atop of them, knocking Kal-El onto his back. A wet, slobbering tongue was dragged across his face.

"Get off, Rajah," he chuckled. "I'm supposed to look dignified at present. You aren't helping."

"When have you ever looked dignified?" Diana inquired far too innocently.

Kal-El didn't dignify that with an answer. Contrary to his accusation, he scratched the tiger behind his ear and the large feline closed its eyes in pleasure before attempting to groom the Sultan's haircut into a dishevel shape the tigers considered fashionable. Taking mercy on him, Diana saved her brother from drool by offering a hand to drag him back onto his feet.

"Come with me," she called enthusiastically, pulling him into the palace. "I must tell you everything."

Left without orders the escort exchanged amused glances and then interpreted it as a free leave. Some headed home for a well deserved rest after the longest trip across the scorching sands, while other didn't miss an opportunity to join the festivities. They headed to the city center where played the music and the loud voices sung deep into the night.

* * *

"I haven't had this much fun in years." GL's sense of fun was supported by an impressive poach of sparkling coin he collected. Without a doubt, his friend hadn't fallen behind in making the day just as productive; however, that wasn't what gave him a rare moment of peace. Metropolis was a large city of conflicting personalities and interests. This variety often turned into trouble. This was a rare day when everyone smiled at each other, shook hands with strangers, sung and danced until the stars came out. This unity gave him hope for the future.

Beside him, Wayne was lost in thought. Silent happiness rolled off him in waves. As expected, he was secretive about it. Poking Al would have ruined it, so GL didn't pry. They travelled by rooftops where the air was fresher because the streets were still rather crowded. It was difficult to imagine that someone would suffer on a day like this. That's why at the sound of crying GL stopped so abruptly that he nearly shoved Wayne off the roof. The distress needed to be investigated and he hopped down onto a ledge to check. Carefully, GL peered into a window of a shabby home where he was met by a depressing sight of the scraped, bare walls. The room's furnishings consisted of no more than a couple of pots and pillows worn to the holes. On them knelt a crying woman who was hugging close three children no older than eight.

"Why are you crying mommy?" the oldest girl asked. Trying to be brave, she was wiping the tears that trailed down the woman's face.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. We were robbed at the festivities. How will we be able to get to the end of this month…"

GL's fingers clenched around an imaginary throat of the bastard who had taken their last coin. Are you any better, a poisoned voice questioned at the back of his mind. Just because you are taking from someone a bit richer, does it mean they haven't worked hard for their income?

A loud, authoritative knock interrupted his guilt trip. Strictly instructing her children to hide, the woman rose to answer. Al was no longer beside him. Looking down, GL spotted his friend placing something on the doorstep and then blending in with the shadows as the door creaked open.

The woman's foot bumped against the pouch, drawing her attention. Her eyes widened in amazement as she picked up the unexpected gift and looked inside. "This is much more than we've lost." She looked around in vain for the mysterious benefactor. Only the wavering shadows stared back at her. Much happier tears glistened on her eyelashes. "Thank you, whoever you are!"

Feeling like he got pulled back from the edge of the abyss where another moral boundary crumbled, GL returned to the roof and took a deep breath of the night air. Children's laughter spilled from the open window and the stars glimmered far above as Wayne re-joined him. They moved on, feeling like they had no privy to that private family moment. He almost envied the woman who no matter the suffering had the love of her family.

"Anyway, we still got half of it," GL mentioned his share to focus on what they had rather than on what he no longer hoped to have. "Any plans what to do with it?" He slapped the pocket where his bounty lay and stopped dead in his tracks, finding a hole in place of the overflowing pouch. It didn't help any when Al's eyebrows inched up.

"I don't believe this!"

"You got pick pocketed," Al commented dryly. "You." To GL's astonishment, his friend threw his head back, allowing a brief laugh to escape him.

"Ha-ha. Very funny! You won't be so amused tomorrow when your stomach asks you to eat something."

Wayne shrugged like he already had a plan or maybe he didn't because it didn't concern him. He had the ability to forego rest and food for days. GL suspected that Wayne was indifferent to their current lifestyle and was capable of doing better. The clutches of poverty weren't inescapable for some and Wayne could have been one of those people.

'Why do you stay here?' GL once asked when the mood was amiable. The answer mystified him. 'Because it's easier to remain unseen.'

Relentlessly, his friend was following an elusive goal and maybe this lifestyle was enough for Wayne, but the former warrior wanted more. One day, they were going to score a jackpot and wouldn't have to worry about dinner ever again.


	6. Chapter 6

All characters have a few features from their Disney counterparts. I'll do my best with Genie even if he's opposite of J'onn.

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

"Sultan."

Kal-El inwardly winced. Intuition warned him which subject would be brought up. He and Diana had shared two wonderful days, joking and laughing almost like they were children again. Something was bound to destroy that tranquility. The returning pain sinking its claws into his mind without mercy was another proof of that.

"Luthor, what brings you here?" he acknowledged in vague hopes that this was about the economy.

"Please allow me to say how happy I am that our beloved Princess has returned unharmed. As much as her skill was never in doubt, everyone was concerned for her well being."

"Nothing pleases me more than having her home."

This was one of a very few subjects that brought discord between the siblings. Kal-El was torn between choosing what was best for the city and his sister's happiness. Ever since their parents passed away, he shouldered the older brother's responsibilities and habits. He was far more inclined to oblige her wishes rather than push her into making the choices Diana loathed.

"I deeply regret having to interrupt Princess Diana's the well deserved rest so soon. Our present affairs cannot be delayed. I'm concerned the decision will not be made least she is prompted into the right direction by someone whose opinion she values. On behalf of the council, I dare ask, has she chosen a worthy candidate for her hand in marriage?"

"I believe she was too busy during the mission to consider the proposals. I cannot recall her stating an approval for anyone prior."

With the looks that rivalled a Goddess and a heart full of passion, Diana was a desirable match. The status served as additional lure. As soon as the announcement was made that she sought a husband, the nobility from many lands travelled to Metropolis. While Kal-El expected her to be assertive and trusted her to discern between honourable intentions and petty bounty seekers, he hadn't anticipated just how blunt and absolute she was in her judgement. The big brother in secret agreed that no one was good enough, but this was his selfishness speaking that didn't want to give her away to anyone. The reason, reluctantly, was on Luthor's side. Kal-El felt death nearing. He had no children to pass the rule to, while the traditional laws did not allow Diana to rule alone. She could only do so through a husband. Once he was gone, the city would have been torn by ambition and greed of those who sought power, drowning the streets in blood.

"I pray my solution won't be perceived as unworthy," Luthor finished beating around the bush and got to the point. "I would like to assure you of my greatest regard for Princess Diana and offer my candidature for her hand in marriage."

Kal-El suppressed the distaste for his idea in favour of reason. "I do not believe she expressed any warm feelings for you," he said bluntly.

"She hadn't mentioned affection for any other person, while I dare not confess the true depth of my feelings for the princess," Luthor didn't even flinch. "Meanwhile, none of the other candidates have the same experience I do at running the city affairs. I bare no illusions for a match of love, but I will always act on your sister's best interests and maintain control over the city."

Luthor would secure the city under his rule and suppress any rebellion. While he was divided whether the notion disturbed him or was a plus, of that Kal-El had no doubt.

"I will forward your proposal to her," he promised.

Realising this was a dismissal, Luthor bowed and backed out of the room, meeting Shayera in the doorway. The Captain always had a glare prepared for him that could have whipped up a sandstorm. The vizier couldn't have cared less because he planted an idea in the Sultan's mind who as a fair man would see its benefits as soon as he gave it consideration. The impaired judgement would lead him to believe it was the only way to save Metropolis.

Kal-El greeted Shayera far more warmly than the vizier. He moved to meet her half-way, motioning them to the garden in hopes of sharing a casual conversation rather than just a military report. He was guilty of missing far too many meetings with her lately even if it hadn't been intentional.

While she hadn't born resentment for being overshadowed, falling into step beside him alleviated some of her concerns. Kal-El was tough, almost as much as his sister. He would overcome whatever plagued him. Winning her loyalty was no easy task. Gradually, she began to think of this man as a friend whom she intended to protect for as long she had the power to wield her mace.

* * *

As much as he didn't approve of too much running, GL admitted there was an inherent fun in chasing down a few troublemakers, more so because most of those ventures ended with him and Al kicking some serious butt. His friend was a nocturnal creature who had an occasional quirk for patrolling the streets at night. This frequently meant some thugs were going to have a very poor evening. GL found those encounters fairly exciting, as much as he preferred his rest at midnight hours.

"Just drop the loot, dumb ass," he shouted highly valuable advice to the two men they were after.

Of course they choose to do it the hard way regardless of his warning and GL wanted them to choose it. A knife thrown at him in the blind fuelled his determination to get them good.

The night patrol ran into the thugs in the market area. The law breakers were viciously beating up an old man for trying to resist a robbery. When GL and Wayne interfered with a number of formidable kicks and punches as a supporting argument, like all cowards who preyed on the weak the thugs fled, taking the stolen possessions with them. They didn't notice during the pursuit that only one person was left on their heels while the other took a detour. The retribution for the attention lapse came in form of a cabbage cart getting pushed into the middle of the road that nearly squished them. A phantom leaped from it, knocking down one of the thugs. GL took on the other, starting with one hell of a hook right into the jaw. The resounding pain in the knuckles told him this punch was a success. GL never got the same feeling out of fighting off the guards because he used to be on the other side of the law. The opponent pulled a butcher knife, thoroughly pissed off and breathing like an enraged rhinoceros. His breath stank of rotten eggs as they wrestled for the weapon.

"What's it to you!" he spat furiously nearly landing a leg-breaking kick at GL's shin. "We don't interfere with your work. Don't interfere with ours."

"We don't maim innocent people to satisfy our self-importance," GL hissed, peeved that they were put on the same level of low.

Their vicious stand off was interrupted by a blade getting pressed between the thug's shoulder blades. He dropped the weapon, realising there was a second man he had forgotten about and unclasped the hairy fingers held tight around GL's throat with far more reluctance. Lastly, he threw the stolen wallet on the ground, vigilantly observed by Wayne for the slightest bit of resistance.

The other thug was comically dangling off a pole. Tied up like a puppet, he was releasing pitiful howls about being afraid of heights.

"We'll get you for this," the man on the ground sneered.

The threat was a poor move. Like a thunderous cloud, Wayne spun around and leaned in close enough to pass the message so clearly it would haunt the other into a grave. "You will never get us back," his voice rang low and dangerous, "because all you're good for is kicking those who cannot fight back. Just remember, the next time you raise your fist, I will dig a pit in the desert and bury you alive in it with the scorpions."

They weren't going to win a guilt trip, but the vivid threats tended to be persuasive when the bandits felt that shadows might materialise and creep up on them to execute the promised retribution.

A push sent the man reeling back where he haphazardly landed into the cabbage cart. GL kicked the rattling contraption to speed down the hill. As they picked up the merchant's watch and the wallet, a crash resonated from the bottom of the hill accompanied by unimpressed cat yowls spooked by a horrible monster crashing into their habitat. Somehow it was difficult to imagine the merchant was still sitting where they left him waiting for more adventures. Most likely he was already home attending the bruises. Not that it was a problem enough to suggest keeping the items. Wayne always found everyone he wanted.

They cut across a square and followed a road that ran alongside a tall live fence. Behind it lay the palace garden. From it, a light and pleasantly cool breeze brought to the passers-by the sweet flower aromas. Wayne was lost in thought as distant as the moonlight that played with shadows on his face. Everything was fine and good, too good to end well. Without a word of explanation Wayne stopped to face the wall. Spotting a few handholds, he scaled it before GL blinked. Of all the reckless things to do! Swearing under his breath, Abu didn't abandon his friend nonetheless. His feet sunk into a lush grass when he landed on the other side.

"Go home," Wayne snapped at him as means of thanks.

"Don't think so. I want to know what's going on and I intend to stalk you until you fess up."

"Suit yourself."

Hiding behind the bushes and statues, while keeping a vigilant eye for the guards, the pair weaved a complicated path towards the palace until they crouched behind a marble fountain of three women. The crystal streams were pouring into an inlaid basin out of the pots held by them. The glittering stones would have fetched a nice price at the black-market. It was tempting to look at the surrounding beauty and even more tempting to convince his friend to leave.

Wayne was consumed by observing the glowing palace windows like he was looking for someone specific in their depths. Behind the semi-transparent curtains passed silhouettes, minding their business, which was what they were suppose to be doing too.

"You know, I heard Princess Diana has a pet tiger that likes taking walks in this park after dark. He also gobbles up the trespassers like us and doesn't even pick his teeth with the sabre-long claws after."

His appeal to common sense might as well have been aimed at the rocks. The result was equally unmoving.

"Have I also mentioned how the last guy who came here without an invitation was packed into a banana crate and shipped to Europe?"

Of all the foolish risks to take, this had to be the most useless one. What were they risking their necks for? The imaginary scenarios weren't helping, so GL went for a direct approach.

"This ignoring stunt may work on me, but it won't go down well should we get caught. Let's get out of here while the Sultan is taking a nap or having a meeting with one of those windbag advisors."

A voice that was nothing like Wayne's completed his list of the Sultan's imaginary activities.

"Or he's waiting for you to tell him what you are doing in his garden..."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Had GL ever come close to dying of fright, this had to be it. Like he had lost a contest, the warrior felt acute irritation at how smoothly Wayne turned to face those who addressed them, while he nearly jumped out of his skin.

He had never seen the Sultan up close and he didn't need to as it was obvious who the man standing a few feet away was. There was no vain posturing to cow the unwelcome visitors. The Sultan waited calmly for an answer with a confidence only a man sure of his right would have. There was no hostility in him either. The woman on his right greatly made up for that.

Please don't recognise us, GL repeated like mantra in his head. He doubted had the ground parted and swallowed them whole, they would have been able to escape the suspicion written all over her face.

"I can answer for them," Shayera declared. "They're thieves, Your Highness."

"Prove it! We've taken nothing," Wayne challenged. "As far as you know we're visitors who only wanted to see this magnificent park."

Neither expected a lightening reaction. GL's arm was painfully twisted and a couple of stones matching those in the fountain fell out of his sleeve.

What? Somebody has to think about our future, GL's expression said as Wayne shot him a disapproving glare. This was the part where they begged for mercy. Right?

"Maybe people wouldn't have to steal had you done a better job of ruling this city! I suppose it's convenient to blame someone else for your failing while covering behind that status!"

There were times when GL could have strangled his friend for bluntness. Rather than appealing to the man's humanity and telling him a pitiful sob story about having to feed eleven children and a pet parrot, Wayne had to throw an accusation that could have jarred anyone. GL was pretty sure he would have been pissed off to be talked to like that, but the ruler didn't even flinch. What was he, made of steel?

"Captain…"

Judging by her readiness, their prison sentence amounted to two hundred years.

"Make sure our visitors get a meal…" Not afraid of an underhanded attack, the Sultan turned his back on them like the matter no longer concerned him. GL could have sworn he saw a cocky grin as the man added, "…and a bath."

There was a disgruntled mutter from Wayne along the lines of 'I don't smell.' It didn't look like they had a say in it. A flash of indignation at the order was replaced by a downright evil grin as the Captain smacked her mace against the palm of her hand. She fixed GL with a look that melted bones.

"Just try and pilfer something on the way to the bath," she declared, clearly wishing he would give her a reason to feed them to the crickets.

GL bit his tongue. Those crickets looked vicious.

* * *

An irritating pest, standing on his path to greatness who had done nothing to earn his position of power as it had been handed to him by default since birth. A self-made man, Lex Luthor despised that. Strolling through the gardens to waste conversation on someone who knew nothing else except how to lose her temper, listening to useless drivel and petty complains of little people. Instead of pushing his stubborn sister into marriage, the man wasted his time on nonsense, while the city inched closer to chaos. No one got under his skin as much as the Sultan.

His knuckles gripped the staff so tight, they turned white. In response to a whispered curse, the kryptonite blazed green, sending a wave of nausea at the despised subject. The accursed siblings proved to be far more resilient than their parents. This was taking too long, even for his prudence and patience when it came to executing big projects.

Luthor also realised vulnerability of his position. Even had his plan eventually succeeded into tying himself to the royal family, the Princess was far too wilful to step aside meekly and leave everything in his capable hands.

What he needed was the object of absolute power that dominated his dreams for the past twenty years. Luthor remembered his last attempt to reach the lamp. The stark wrinkles etched across the man's forehead who followed him to the mountain, seduced by the promise of the heaps of treasure hidden inside. Like hypnotized, he walked straight into the mouth of a cave, shaped like a giant's head. The gruff warning and a voice that rumbled like the earth itself about the awaiting trials was lost on the dispensable man because imagination set his watery eyes aglow with the imagined gold. The cave glowed orange like the burning magma, swallowing the challenger and there was an anguished scream. Then, the mountain went dormant.

What trials did the man have to pass to be deemed worthy of entrance? Luthor's research extended into the deserts and oceans unsuccessfully, while no person he sent into the cave returned. It had to be his mistake to send the fools whose imagination did not surpass a heap of jewels as bliss. Sometimes, Luthor considered sending Iago. He had to find someone sharp and agile, and someone he immensely disliked. Ironically, Iago was saved by that report about the gold transport trap. A family name Luthor crossed long ago surfaced. Maybe he could win both, get the lamp and dispose of the remnants of the ill deed clinging to the hem of his robe from the past. That was the problem with the ghosts, they had to be destroyed or they would haunt him forever.

* * *

Drip. Clop. Drip. Clop.

This dream followed Flash everywhere.

Plump droplets from a drying laundry were falling onto a boy who crouched on the ground under a wall with his knees pulled up to his chest and head lowered onto the folded arms. His lip swelled twice its size and the suppressed sobs made his bruised ribs ache. All for an orange. Shame battled the vast emptiness in his stomach. He hadn't eaten a single crumb in four days. The stall with oranges - bright, juicy, delicious, was mocking him when it was so poorly supervised by a merchant who gripped onto a highly prospective customer in hopes of selling the entire lot in one go. The honeyed words how wonderful the oranges were resonated in the stomach of a ten year old who peered at it from the corner and then unable to suppress the need any longer made a swift move and grabbed one, backing away unsuspected. Cradling the hard won prize, he put some distance from the crime scene and then stopped to remove the peel.

"Nice swipe there."

Instinctively, Iago clutched the orange closer. A boy wiry as an eel and a good head taller approached him. He was barefoot. A skinny knee peeked through the torn pants. He was missing two front teeth. Iago backed away to find his way blocked by two more teenagers. The older boys eyed his prize hungrily. Though he wasn't scared of them much, they were marked with despair when one was forced to fight for survival since birth and was willing to go to the extremes for it.

"Except, who gave you permission to do stuff like that on our turf? You got to pay the fine."

Obviously, the orange was that fine. Iago flashed them a grin.

"You know, I'd pay the fine, except that big guy behind ya says I don't have to!"

Iago bolted into a narrow gap between the two boys as they turned to check the non-existent guy behind them. He almost got through. Almost. At the cost of landing onto his stomach, one of the boys stretched out and grabbed his ankle, sending Iago face first into dirt. The orange rolled away as the trio pounced on him without selecting where the vicious kicks and punches landed as long as they did. One of his ribs flared in pain under the weight of three bodies. Iago mainly rolled and dodged in the pile up, finally winding one of the boys enough to twist out of their hold.

'Run away you little coward! That's all you're good for!'

The mocking shouts and whistles followed Iago until he collapsed. He hadn't been able to keep the prize he sacrificed some of his principles for. Desperately, he wanted to ask his father whether he was doing the wrong thing or maybe it was ok when he so desperately wanted to live, and every time this subconscious wish was confronted by a horrible reality – his only relative was dead.

This is how Iago came to be on the streets. His father used to hold a high ranking post as the palace guard. The absence of a mother figure and the strain his father was under of coping with a highly demanding job didn't allow Iago to be too indulged. Mostly, he knew how to take care of himself, however, his father had always treated him fairly and all his basic needs had been taken care of. He had never known hunger or needed to know how to preserve a decent set of clothes that looked shabbier with each day, eventually making him look no different than the other street urchins.

Iago was at the military quarters, kicking a rock around and waiting for his father to return from his watch when the hell broke loose. Bangs. Shouts. The adults in groups ran around, following some urgent errand. The palace resembled a disturbed beehive that trailed smoke. And someone yelled FIRE!

Not a single adult paid attention to a boy who zoomed underfoot. Unable to make sense of what was happening, Iago was growing increasingly frightened by the screams around him. All he understood was that something horrible happened and his father's name was mentioned a lot. Did his father do something bad? Iago couldn't believe that, but sometime bad things happened when you didn't mean to. He remembered how he was sharing a room with the older boys at night. Curled on his cot he listened to their stories how in the past children used to be held accountable for their parent's actions. One of the kids whose father was a murderer was sealed into a barrel and thrown off a cliff. What if they remembered about this tradition? Was he going to be punished too?

Iago had the breath knocked out of him as he collided with an armed man. Dazed, Iago remembered one of the guards his father used to share a friendly game of dice with. The man looked annoyed at getting tripped, but his expression changed into something painful when he realised who was responsible.

"Hey, listen lad," he said gruffly, "your father, he… won't be coming. Why don't you get out of here until…"

"Hakim!"

The barked command had him wave his arm helplessly in the direction of the exit as if to send a message he couldn't verbally state and then he was off, responding to the urgent orders. The man simply wanted to get the boy out of the way where he wouldn't get trampled until the chaos settled and someone could take on the heartbreaking task of explaining to the youth what happened.

The terrified kid interpreted this very differently. Iago's heart plummeted into his stomach. His father never hid how dangerous his job was. He had prepared his son for the worst. Killed – the thought didn't make sense, but Iago was sure. His father's friend must have been secretly trying to warn him that he too was in big, big trouble. Iago turned to the main doors that led outside and did the only thing he knew how. He ran. Ran. Ran.

The following day the entire city was draped in black and mournful wails came from the windows as a funeral procession crawled through the streets under the heavy clouds. The Sultan's wife was dead. This knowledge filled Iago with such fear that he resolved to hide away as far as possible.

"Such shame."

Iago nearly jumped out of his skin. A shadow fell on him. The man looming above him was dressed impeccably. He had a strong facial structure with the traces of polished brutality concealed by a piercing, highly intelligent expression in the deep seated eyes.

"How quickly we forget the relatives of those who sacrificed so much for this city when trouble befalls them. I look with hope of remedying such unjust course of time by meeting the son of Henry Allen."

"You were my father's friend?" Iago's voice cracked. Hope, like a wavering ray, reached for him through the surrounding darkness.

"I knew a lot of people your father included," the man said enigmatically, "what they've done and what they have hoped for. Most importantly, I wonder what it is you wish to do. Do you wish to serve me or stay in this alley?" he implored. "The choice is yours."

Get off the streets. Build new home. Find his purpose. Iago wasn't sure what the man was offering. Could it be any worse than what he had endured? Only with a small grain of hesitation, Iago rose and accepting an outstretched hand, he swore allegiance to Lex Luthor.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Appealing to his conscience normally wasn't such a strenuous task. Kal-El found no further excuse to delay the conversation with Diana. Forced to acknowledge that there was no better person who could keep the city in one piece once he was gone, the Sultan went to see her. In turn, he hoped Diana would be able to control Luthor. Despite his feet walking two steps back for every one he took, Kal-El eventually ended up on her doorstep and peeked into the room.

Typical of his sister, rather than crowding the mirror to admire a new outfit, she was gliding a sharpening stone along a razor edge of a finest sword. Ever attuned to the surroundings, Diana sensed his presence. A beautiful smile like a sun rising above the horizon lit up the room.

"Kal-El! Would you look at this weapon's craftsmanship! It must have at least a thousand years of service and there isn't a single dent."

Being the reason for dimming that smile as she caught onto his lack on enthusiasm was a miserable experience.

"I spoke to Luthor today," the Sultan got to the point as there was no easier way to broach the subject. "He proposed."

"Congratulations," the teasing as much as she wanted to make it light was strained and she was never good at hiding emotions that turned hostile at the mere name. "You two will make the cutest couple. I'll order a pretty gown for you."

"I'm serious," Kal-El frowned. The attempt to turn this into a joke solidified his doubt. Diana was ignoring the magnitude of the problem. In some matters they couldn't behave like children. The last time the throne was left without a direct male heir, it led to thirteen years of civil war. He had to prompt her into the right direction while he still had the ability to make reasonable decisions. "In fact, I believe his proposal has merit."

Diana tensed like a bowstring. Pushing her was akin to pressing down on a coiled spring. The more pressure one applied, the more resistance they got. Tension cocooned around them as the siblings exercised their wills in staring each other down.

"I do not trust that toad. He flatters those in power and steps on those without it like they mean nothing."

"Our father trusted Luthor explicitly. He was instrumental in summoning the nomadic tribes to help defend the Metropolis against Darkseid's invasion."

"Mercenaries," Diana stated disdainfully. In her eyes bought help had no honour.

"Who spilled their blood for our people."

In chaos and darkness all sorts of people rise, who were invisible before. Luthor first appeared by Jor-El's side when the smoke of the burning settlements marred the horizon and hysteria grew in strength about a foreign overlord who subjugated half of the neighbouring lands and whose influence slowly crept through the desert, gradually encircling the main obstacle - the Metropolis. Darkseid's ambitions ran deep: either force the most influential city into submission or burn it. His armies marched closer and grew with each tribe destroyed. Desperate to save the city, Jor-El tried to unite the remaining tribes. The nomadic leaders proved divided and wavering in loyalties, questioning whether it may have been better to join the aggressor. In this Luthor became instrumental. He saw through each doubt, manipulated the greatest desires and weaknesses, until the neutral tribes agreed. As a result, in the bloodiest clash Darkseid was defeated. His armies were destroyed and he barely managed to flee retribution. The cost of saving the city was great. Kal-El was old enough to fight that battle. As the participant he was aware, had it not been for the tribes' help, the foreign overlord could have taken the Metropolis' throne. When the threat was gone Luthor stayed to serve Jor-El and then his son. Rising in power, the vizier was never liked and yet indispensable. Kal-El wasn't so ungrateful as to forget his contribution.

"Even so," Diana said stubbornly, confident that Luthor was rewarded trice for what he earned. "We have no unpaid debts. We owe him nothing and I want nothing to do with him."

Kal-El wasn't moving or weakening in his position. Her temper was rising. After being pestered and hounded by a bunch of pompous, pretentious wannabe Sultans who occasionally harboured lusty thoughts for her, Diana was more inclined to homicide than matrimony. How did her brother always remain so calm? Only a few faint lines on his face deepened, giving away that he was fighting for control.

"I do not insist on choosing Luthor. Many men came to seek your hand in marriage. Have none of them met your approval?"

"No one in that weak, cheaply flattering pack of baboons pining away for our wealth is worthy of succeeding Metropolis! All they see is a quick power grab!"

"That's not true! Some noblemen come from the families we've known and befriended many years ago. Prince Abdul-Baba..."

"Has a wart on his nose."

An invisible bolt of lightening struck between them and an ominous silence fell. After evading his request for a year, Diana reached the end of her brother's patience.

"If you do not understand the importance of my request, then I have no choice but to make the decision for you."

"How dare you decide who will be my companion for the rest of my life!"

"I dare."

Kal-El's face was set in stone.

"I am the Sultan and you will obey me this time! You have two weeks to find a suitable match or you will be married to Luthor and your agreement or even the ceremony attendance will not be mandatory."

Her rage was boundless as the Sultan spun on his heel and marched out of the room. He was infuriated as well. Diana caught her own reflection in the mirror, the bewildered eyes where lay the anger of a trapped animal. Her fist collided with the smooth surface and the shards fell, mixed with the tiny droplets of blood.

* * *

The mood was silent and tense. Tense enough for a stray fly to enter their shack and make a beeline back outside past GL who regarded the street below with his arms firmly crossed on his chest. He was closed off, protected. Behind him, Wayne was busy fixing the grappling hook, pretending that everything was normal. It wasn't. The previous night may have ended without an execution, but his friend had to right to put them in danger.

What prompted him to enter that garden? Al usually had better judgement than that. GL knew him since he was sixteen. Abu had a lot more life experience back then and still he learned a lot about the unfamiliar city from the lanky young man who knew the place like the back of his hand.

GL wasn't native to Metropolis, in the past belonging to a Green Lantern Core. It was a scattered group of elite mercenaries with an occasional knack for heroics. They took jobs across the world. One of those jobs got him into a capital mess. It began as a straight forward task, along with a royal escort taking a Great Sword of Kaleem from one Rajah to another as a symbol of peace. The first signs of trouble arose on the sixth day with a cloud on the horizon. Sure and daring, it was moving towards them at a great speed. GL called the group to a halt, carefully choosing a defensive position. In the line taken directly towards them, he sensed an ill will.

The desert welcoming committee didn't make them wait long. Sharp eyesight caught the flashing weapons and a perfect attacking formation maintained with their speed as the hostile group advanced on them like the wind. The defenders were outnumbered three to one. Normally, GL wasn't intimidated by odds. Skill and organisation often won battles. GL steeled himself against the assault, judging their enemy had those advantages too. His sword was an old, comforting presence in hand as he ordered the others to hold the defensive positions. They were going to lose men. That didn't mean defeat.

What hadn't been a part of his calculations was the leader. Had devil ever walked the earth, it had to be him. The man's strong structured face was burned red by the sun with a thin line of black moustache running around the upper lip. In the dark amber eyes glittered treachery and the ability to bend others to his will. The charcoal mustang he rode rammed through the defending line like it was nothing. A man was beheaded by him on the spot and another escort fell from a thrust running clean through his leather armour. A grim smile twisted his lips when his third blow was deflected. This clash of blades was drowned in battle cries.

GL was vaguely aware of the surrounding massacre, unable to help his party. The man he engaged required his full concentration. The assessment made his skin crawl as his opponent recovered smoothly from the parry and drew back, not without mockery checking who dared challenge him.

"A Lantern! What a nice bonus," he sneered. "There I thought I'd only take the Sword."

"Ever heard of a guy who gloated about his victories before winning and got an arrow up his throat?"

After that, GL hadn't the opportunity to snap back. His sword groaned under the vicious series of blows coming from every direction and strikes switching sides in mid-air. Pushed back far enough at a disadvantage, GL pulled a knife. The slash made a shallow wound in the aggressor's arm, giving him the opportunity to re-gain better ground. His side was losing. Death was around him. Death was behind. And hell in front. At least the other wasn't made of stone.

"Haven't I introduced myself?" the man grinned, catching a breath as well after their fierce exchange, "Sinestro."

That's when GL noticed three emerald rings glowing on the man's left hand that were taken from the guardians Sinestro had killed. Each was marked with a lantern shaped frame around the precious stones.

"Traitor," GL acknowledged impassively, forced to hide his anger. A similar ring he wore hummed on his finger and his skin tingled. He heard about the Lantern who turned on the Core by murdering a comrade and taking his power ring.

"I call it a demigod's act, breaking free of following narrow-minded orders of the foolish old men."

"Yet, you bleed like a bragging mortal asshole," GL gestured at the shallow wound.

They clashed again, holding nothing back. Sweat poured into GL's eyes. Each exchange filled his muscles with led exhaustion. He wasn't going down willingly. He could endure. All Lanterns underwent a severe training that moulded each core member into a force to be reckoned with. Sinestro, who used to be one of their best, knew all about their tricks. That's how he killed so many. Has his betrayal made him stronger?

No. GL steadily pushed away despair. That's what Sinestro wanted them all to believe. The rings were imbued with the magical energies that gave temporary boosts in power in battles. How could Sinestro be connected to that power when he betrayed it?

His ring blazed to life. A green aura surrounded GL at his call. The dead weight of exhaustion was thrown back at his next parry. With the opponent's blade out of the way, GL rammed his shoulder into Sinestro's chest. The impact pushed the man to the ground. GL followed, positioning his sword to slice clean through the traitor's heart. That's where he was struck by one of the Sinestro's men. Had he not been protected by the aura, his leg would have been severed.

The pain was excruciating. The impact of a slash right under the knee toppled GL onto his enemy who raised his sword in time to slide the jagged blade between his ribs. The breath of the blazing sun scorched his face as Sinestro reversed their positions, flipping GL onto his back. The sand burned, mixing with blood that poured out of his wounds. A kick into his temple blurred the world.

Like a mirage, he recalled distantly the traitor's evil grin when Sinestro pulled the ring off his finger. A triumphal cheer signalled that bandits had taken the Sword of Kaleem from the chest, claiming it as Sinestro's personal trophy and their mark of greatness.

One more disdainful kick into his ribs and a vengeful remark before the world went blank.

"And you die like a fool who followed the false illusions."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

GL woke up to a vulture plucking a chunk of flesh off his bones. He swung hard at the pest and landed a blow that sent the scavenger off reeling. Offended by rough treatment, the bird hopped across the sand and peered at its future meal unkindly from a safer distance. Gritting his teeth against the stinging sand in his wounds, Abu dragged himself into a more or less upward position. The escort was slain, every single man. The horses were taken. He searched the bodies for waters skins usually worn on the guards' belts. Half-crazed with thirst, he gulped down every precious drop of water in the first water skin that miraculously escaped smashing. Some of the clothes unstained by blood made the crude makeshift bandages.

GL salvaged all the water he could before getting on the move. As the party leader he had meticulously studied the area maps and charted their route that lay past a major hub called the Metropolis. By estimate, it was four days away on foot. Using the sun's position as compass he crawled across the scorching sands, dragging the bad leg behind him. It took him much longer to get there and he nearly gave up more than once because hell had to be cooler than that. His tongue was so swollen and the throat enflamed so much, he wasn't sure he'd speak again. There wasn't day or night. He moved when he was conscious, using the stars and sun to guide him. Several times upon coming out of the faints he found black scorpions sitting on his body. The beasts never stung him, which GL took for a sign. The memory of Sinestro's gloating face forced him to keep going. He wanted to survive at least to spite the man and cling onto the phantom chances of getting his ring back one day.

He didn't entirely make it, collapsing on the city's outskirts where a kind man found the unfortunate straggler and brought him home to be treated. All desert folk knew the danger of the golden landscape the mere men occupied. They shared a unanimous compassion for survivors. When his wounds more or less closed, GL could impose on the good family no more and dived into the streets of a new home. Soon, he discovered that while the citizens were for the most part generous, living in a rather wealthy city, they could not afford the free loaders. When it came to getting a job, many were mistrustful of a badly limping man with a heavily sunburned face. His uniform was in shambles after crawling across the land on his stomach for days. Admittedly, GL wouldn't have trusted himself either. His leg had refused to heal for many years, making the military career impossible.

Forced by the circumstances, he stole one day to avoid starvation and the new lifestyle sucked him into a questionable whirlpool where his morals underwent a severe trashing. Without the ring he was too ashamed to return to the Lantern Corps. GL armed with the patience and waited. The world was a small place. Their paths with Sinestro would cross again and then he'd get his honour back or die trying.

That's why damned Wayne had no right to put their heads on a chopping block so carelessly, not before he fulfilled his mission to burn the bastard who challenged everything he believed in. Wayne who was calmly picking at his pile of gadgets on the floor like nothing was wrong. Ticked off, GL crossed the room in a large leap and kicked the toys aside.

"Just what was your problem picking a fight with the Sultan?" he spat out angrily.

Wayne must have seen that coming because he rewarded GL with a glare normally reserved for the obnoxious thugs.

"He could have taken our heads. He had every right to it!" GL hissed.

"That naïve mother's boy who believes the world is made out of silk and sunshine needs to be told off before he ruins the city with his misplaced bouts of trust and love your closed ones delirious philosophy."

"And you volunteered because it's clearly your job to tell him what to do? Cut the bullshit. Why did you go to the garden? You've been acting weird ever since the festival when the princess returned." Something clicked like a torch getting lit in darkness. A guarded expression coming over Al's face like a black cloak confirmed his suspicion. GL could have laughed. And there he had thought that Wayne looked like he was hatching a plan to rob the royal treasury. "You crawled over the fence like a love struck idiot for a chance to see her!"

Wayne leapt onto his feet, infuriated that his emotions were dragged to the surface. "I prefer my dates without a nosy chaperone who cannot get lost when he's told to! Maybe next time you will have enough common sense to do just that."

"I'll get lost all right!" GL marched to the window, severely tempted to bury his fist in Wayne's face. "But, I'll get lost knowing my place and wish you the same. You're no prince of blood to be allowed to even look at her like that. You're a nobody."

Fuming, GL stormed out of their living quarters intending to spend the night elsewhere.

Left alone, Wayne kicked one of the pillows aside and then abandoned their home as well without a destination in mind.

* * *

Stupid Kal-El! How dare he decide her fate without her agreement! Diana's initial reaction to the tyrannical order was to leave the city and join her sisters at Themyscira. It would serve him right looking all over for her not knowing what happened. The anger stemmed from being trapped. In her heart Diana knew she could never abandon her brother. This was why she slipped out of the palace unnoticed, to experience an illusion of freedom before it was too late. She was not allowed that much either, always escorted if she ever chose to go outside the palace walls. It wasn't done out of malice, just courtesy of an overprotective brother. No matter how often Diana told him she could take care of herself, it never got through his thick head. While this wasn't the kindest move on his nerves, she was determined to have at least that much.

Draped in brown robes with a hood obscuring her features, Diana looked the part of a common young woman who went about her daily chores. The renowned Metropolis market area sparked her curiosity. She marvelled at the boisterous crowd and many voices praising their wares to the skies. A woman with two golden front teeth latched onto her sleeve determined to make a deal. Unlucky for her, she was offering the worst argument possible.

"A lovely young lady like you must buy this perfume! One whiff and you will have to beat the men away with a stick!" she chimed.

Diana paused and glanced at the woman so haughtily the woman let go. "Believe me, I don't need a stick."

She blended into the crowd, leaving one confused seller behind. As the anger abated slightly, Diana began having fun approaching the various stalls and examining the bountifully displayed items. The merchants poured compliments on an attractive young woman that were for the most part genuine.

Gradually, the wondering led Diana to a quieter area where the shops grew less colourful and sparser. The buildings loomed closer, scraping each other with the slanted rooftops. There, the shade was deeper with more nooks along the street where lay trouble. From one of them came a cracked voice.

"Too many troubled thoughts for a young woman who shouldn't have a worry in the world."

"What makes you think I'm troubled?"

Diana glanced curiously at an entry of a dusty amulet shop where spider webs appeared to be a natural part of the stock. From it emerged a hobbling, old woman. The intense stare from her only black eye penetrated to the bone. "You look and you're not seeing. You walk like a master and yet like a stranger."

"You see this how?" Ignoring an intuitive repulsion, Diana approached.

"I notice many things about the present and know a lot about the future, especially about the affairs of the heart. You can learn a fortune by spending a dime."

Diana wasn't greedy and the woman intrigued her. The princess treated oracles with respect, so she produced a gold coin from her purse, unwilling to offend her. She missed when a greedy light flickered in the seer's eyes who cast an evaluating glance at how much more was hidden in the purse before accepting Diana's hand to submerge into reading the lines.

"As much as your mind is split, your heart will know what to choose," the seer's voice took on an outer world depth and the black eye stare almost burned the palm. "I see the same coin of two sides flipped by capricious fate. One is a fleeting stranger and the other a dark knight. He crosses the holder of the emerald eye. Beware of its light and twisted webs of reason leading to false hopes. And I see crimson city." The seer dropped her hand like it was a scorpion and laughed in a cracked voice that turned into a coughing fit.

"Thank you, I will heed your advice," said Diana. The laugher was unnerving.

"Look about you and above as we part," the woman called out to the leaving customer before hobbling back into her shop.

Inside a man was snoring with his feet up on a handle of a massive brass pot. She kicked the pot so soundly the monotonous ring startled him awake. "Wake up lazy bones! I have a customer for you," the hag cackled.

For a hefty man, he rose rather nimbly and scratched under the armpit instead of wake up grooming. "Thanks ma," he ventured through a wide yawn that cracked his jaw before the woman in spite of her slim complexion pushed him outside. "I'll get her."

* * *

Wayne wasn't sure whether he was annoyed more that Abu stuck his nose into his personal affairs or that he was right. Alarmingly, it was the second. It was insanity that prompted him to search for the princess and a horrible risk to take for a fling. Even if she hadn't been royalty, long term relationships were not meant for him. Why did that consideration even enter his mind? It was best to forget the halo surrounded goddess who outshined the sun. Wayne had a different mission. His parents, who sometimes called his name in the nightmares, were yet to be avenged. Nonetheless, the details of her riding through the city struck vividly in his mind. The elegant curve of her back as she rode, the gestures filled with reserved grace and the eyes that held an entire blue sky in them, except they hard a diamond edge to them rather than softness. An edge in the attitude and strength of character drew him with a far greater intensity. It was nearly impossible to resist that pull.

To escape the memories, Wayne headed for the market. The city's busiest area that brewed with life always provided him with distractions. In the shade, he found a comfortable observation spot elevated above the crowd and scanned the surroundings for the interesting events that would most likely result in a fight. The need to punch someone after the argument with Abu was rather strong.

What drew his attention, however, was a young woman. It happened so subtly that Al didn't notice how he began watching her every move. The enthusiasm with which she moved from one stall to another and eagerly exchanged pleasantries with the owners was contagious. There was naivety in her reactions like she genuinely believed the buckets of compliments poured all over her by the hopeful merchants, not that they had to strain hard to come up with a good thing to say about her. The unflattering brown robes didn't conceal her stately figure. The tilt of her head was quite catching while she regarded the others from an advantage of height. Her interaction was polite, perhaps, too much so like she didn't want to slight anyone.

Wayne acknowledged that he was tracking her once he was faced with the decision to abandon his position when she walked far enough from the market's center.

He hesitated, wondering whether it was worth it and then followed the intuitive pull.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Al followed the woman not without some self-reproach. Since when did he start chasing after every pretty skirt? He tried to recall how long it had been since he shared women's company. A trip to disreputable part of the city and a courtesan or two could have put an end to the silly pursuits. Intuition whispered that his desire to follow this woman meant more.

Why had she come to the market and what was she looking for remained unknown. She wasn't trying to buy a specific item, the wondering without purpose. A prickling feeling that often hailed trouble emerged when she gradually ventured away from the busy area towards the adjacent streets that lead to a poor neighbourhood.

Al waited. Someone other than him was watching her. Every instinct said so. Al put a hand on his belt where a boomerang was sheathed when an old hag hobbled out of one of the shady nooks. His newly selected responsibility, however, wasn't alarmed by the exchange. Foolish girl! The innocent likes of her should have stuck to the crowded places where a little shriek sent a bunch of chivalrous strangers running to her rescue. She certainly shouldn't have traversed ill reputed places and flaunted money in front of a shady persona who looked like she strangled her ancient harpy grandmother for a string of beads.

His suspicion proved valid when the hag went back into her shop, after releasing the customer from her web, and a man emerged from it to follow the young woman in an open manner with the intention of catching her before anyone else shoved up on the empty street.

Al shortened the distance between them. Hopefully, the woman wasn't going to shriek at being overtaken. He hated noisy hysterics. The bandit reached out with a hairy paw and grabbed her elbow. The woman was spun to face a square chin overgrown with a scraggly beard.

"I got a fair proposition for you girly," the beard bellowed, very much convinced of his superiority.

The woman didn't faint or look remotely cowed. "Unhand me!" she said loudly, jerking her arm out of his hold and taking half a step back.

The beard's face blanked in confusion at the resistance and then contorted in anger. "Just give me the money, you stupid wench, and I won't have to kill you!" he yelled, pulling a dirty knife from his pocket. A wooden basket jammed over his head that pinned his arms to the body and a dishonourable kick into the rear sent the aggressor sprawling on the ground.

This had been too easy. What a pity, Wayne considered as he prepared to shake off a rain of grateful tears and sobs. The restless energy that told him to punch someone after the disagreement with GL still bubbled inside.

Dropping the guard nearly made him a victim of a fast-flying punch that headed directly for his left eye. Only the years of honed reflexes rescued him.

"What are you doing, insane female?" he exclaimed when another swing breezed by alarmingly close.

"You think I'm stupid? This act of pretending to attack your villainous accomplice will not earn my trust!"

Curses, she was fast! Nettled by the ludicrous suggestion, Al grabbed her wrist, but didn't get to keep it because a kick nearly got him in a place all men strived to protect. When he wanted a fight, he certainly wasn't expecting to be attacked by what at first looked like a mild mannered houseplant girl.

"What sort cretinous housewife tales have you been listening to-ouch!?" A basket flung at him bounced off his head. "Bandits don't do cheap theatrics! If I was working with that guy, I would have clubbed you over the head, plain and simple, while he had your attention! Had you any common sense you'd realise I was trying to help!"

"And if you had any common sense, you'd know how to… DUCK!"

Not needing a second invitation, Bruce dived under her fist that vengefully slammed into her recent attacker's face. The beard managed to wiggle free of the basket during their squabble and screeching his teeth like a ticked off crocodile tried to put a knife into the back of the man who embarrassed him. The swing got him good. Beard fell flat on his back like a chopped down log, but didn't stay down. Clutching a bloodied nose, he staggered up and ran, cursing the day he met the crazy pair.

"Do all men end up running from you spotting bountiful black eyes and broken noses?"

"I wish it happened more often."

Wayne quirked a sardonic eyebrow at how seriously she said that.

"Thank you."

The woman was still regarding him sceptically, but at least his face was temporarily safe from her attempts at self-defence that could have buried an invading army.

"Listen, that thug can bring his friends to get even. They might search this area. It would be better if I showed you the fastest way home out of here," he ventured, not that his previous attempt to help had been met with enthusiasm.

"Home?" the woman echoed reluctantly and dug her heels into the street dust like a mule. "Right now, I got no home to go back to!"

"I don't care that you had a fight with your daddy and decided to boycott home by spending a day elsewhere," he snapped, having no time for family dramas. "You should go back before your little adventure gets you into big trouble. There is a good reason your family would worry about you."

At the mention of family, a guilty look crossed her face that was quickly replaced by indignation. "If I said I have no place to go back to, then I do not! Don't question my word!"

"Are you trying to convince me you're as good as a street rat?" Wayne crossed his arms on his chest and threw a look at her full of irony. "No offence, but you don't look like you can survive a day in this city."

"I can survive anywhere!" she exclaimed passionately, nettled by the implication that she couldn't take care of herself.

"Prove it."

"What?"

"Come with me and prove it."

Al grabbed her hand decisively, mostly expecting to be smacked for the rough handling, but she allowed him to finally drag her away from the dangerous spot. The skin where he gripped her wrist was as delicate as the rose petals. Holding the slender limb, it was difficult to imagine she was capable of knocking down a grown man. This could not be a hand belonging to a person who had no home. Wayne led them back to the safe market area, fully expecting her to bail out on the plan he intended to propose.

"Do it," he said expectably, leading them into the center of the crowd.

"Do what?"

Of course she didn't have an idea what he wanted of her.

"Every street rat knows how to take out a wallet unseen from a passerby. In your case, I will accept getting either a wallet or something from one. Or do you intend to take back your claim and tell me where you live?"

"I take nothing back! You just watch!"

"Fine," Al shrugged. He separated from the woman, nonetheless hanging close at hand because she was bound to mess up if she proceeded. A doubt emerged about her quitting when it actually came down to acting, even though she clearly didn't know what she was doing. Observing her, as the woman looked around in confusion wondering where to start, raised a ticklish sensation in his stomach. This was too amusing. Like a kitten in a tub of shallow water she kept peddling through. Laughter bubbled in his chest.

The target she finally settled on wasn't such a bad choice. It was a burly man who confidently wore the wallet on his belt because his impressive size usually dissuaded anyone from trying any funny business. She unbuckled the wallet unnoticed, however, the heavy item slipped through her hands and noisily clattered to the ground. Silly woman! Rather than turning away to pretend she was greatly interested in the items displayed at the nearest stall, she picked up the wallet right when the owner turned around.

"What do you think you're doing?" he bellowed.

Like a shadow, Wayne made a step forward, calculating how to cause the biggest amount of ruckus by openly grabbing the wallet from them and running for it. The market was the easiest place to spread panic and turn the place upside down, making everyone believe that a vicious pack of baboons was attacking it.

"You dropped this," the woman claimed with an angelic smile, holding out the wallet to the frowning man.

His glare melted under its beauty and the man produced a coin from the wallet, which he dropped into her hand. "It's nice to see an honest young lady like you," he declared.

Diana thanked the man and moved away. Her gaze swept the crowd in search of her companion and she smiled in triumph, spotting him nearby. "Your turn," she announced.

"That does not count."

"You said to get something from a wallet. I don't recall you specifying the strategy. Since I must prove myself, then so should you," she steered the conversation back to where she wanted it. "Unless…" disdain emerged in her voice that he didn't like because it dumped him into a trash pile of the unknown others who clearly were beneath her consideration, "you're only good at manipulating others into doing what you want without being able to do it yourself."

"Fine. What is it that you want?"

Diana flipped the coin into the air and he caught it.

"Return it to the same gentleman's wallet," she challenged.

She just wanted to return the money. While he was fairly certain, there was no evidence to call her out on it. "Try to keep up. I hate looking for lost little girls."

"Are you saying you're going to miss me?"

The flirtatious note was there. Wayne turned on his heel and made way through the crowd to conceal that he was affected by it.

The man couldn't have gone far. His towering turban was visible from the other end of the market. On purpose, Al made a wide circle around the area, setting a brisk pace to see whether she could keep up. The woman followed nimbly, making him wonder where a good girl could have picked up the advance tracking skills. Almost impressed, Wayne moved on to fulfil his promise.

It would have been easy to slip the coin back by casually passing the man without as much a touch. That masterful skill of remaining unseen was sure to be underappreciated as it wasn't flashy enough. After the amusement she provided him with it was a shame to avoid entertaining her with an equal circus. He most certainly wasn't showing off. Was he? Al waited for his target to strike a bargain for a ripe lot of mangos and open the wallet.

Al bumped into him heavily and simultaneously flipped the coin behind his back as the other's attention shifted to the offender. The glimmering circle bounced off a bronze plate and landed directly into the wallet, while his entire attention shifted to the man who stood close enough to grab him by the scruff of the neck. Wayne smiled apologetically. Pissing off a guy who had a fist the size of a watermelon begged to exercise some intricate diplomacy. The angry urge to pick a fight after arguing with GL dissipated. In its place came boundless mischief.

"I'm…"

A huge fist closed around his throat, cutting off any assurances Wayne might have come up with and he was lifted off his feet.

"How dare you bump into Houssam!" the man bellowed vengefully, taking in Al's questionable outfit as a sign of thievery. "You were planning on robbing me it seems? You know the law! I ought to chop off your ears!" he grabbed a massive hatchet from the belt to ensure just that when a woman hung onto his arm with an anguished wail.

"Hafiz! What have you done this time?"

"You again?" the man growled.

"I'm so terribly sorry. Has my brother done something again?" the woman batted her eyelashes prettily and stood on her tiptoes to whisper into his ear. "It is tragic, really. He walks around looking for the Sultan and mistakes him for all sorts of things!"

"Huh?"

The grip loosened, dropping Wayne who instantly prostrated himself before the ugliest monkey statue that stood rolling its eyes with its tongue lolling wide out.

"Hail the mighty Sultan!" Wayne announced sincerely enough like his lobe placement depended on it.

"Now dear," supervised by a highly sceptical stare, the woman knelt beside him and patted Al's arm gently. "You mustn't bother the Sultan. The audience day isn't today. We must see the doctor instead."

"We come back tomorrow?" Al asked, agreeing reluctantly to get up.

"Oh yes."

Since the hatchet was still not sheathed, Wayne bowed to the nearest camel and patted its muzzle. "Hello doctor!" he greeted.

"No dear, we must see another doctor," the woman assured, pulling him along until they melted into the crowd away from the vengeful customer.

Wayne observed his companion out of the corner of his eye, having never expected that he'd be saved by her in return. That was impressively quick thinking.

"So," the woman inquired, not letting his arm go like everything had long been decided, "where do you intend to take me next? Any other trials?"

When did he agree to become her guide? There was always the option of leaving without an explanation. Wayne stopped thinking about it.

"Pear fishing…"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"You deem this activity to be entertaining?"

They were perched up in the turrets of a wall surrounding one of the Metropolis' most luxurious mansions. Below them lay two rows of the perfectly trimmed Arjunas in full blossom that surrounded a shaded terrace set with a table and pillows. On it lounged a middle aged owner whose wasteful lifestyle hadn't filled out his limbs, but a hugely protruding stomach bulged through his expensive shirt.

Diana's lips twisted in disdain upon recognition and a memory of a formal dinner she had to endure with this suitor who prattled on about the subjects that made her blood boil. His political views were summed up with the Amazons being the half-naked, virtue lacking barbarians who couldn't be counted as women because any woman's sole purpose was keeping her husband pleased as he was the pillar upholding their home. Deeming he made an irresistible impression, he kept trying to grab Diana's hand or hip under the table until she 'accidentally' jammed him with a fork.

"You're glaring like this funny specimen once tried to rob you of virtue," her companion whispered into her ear. His voice was dark and seductive. In the question lay a double edged sword of humour and veiled threat like he was bound to take offense on her behalf. From it a feeling emerged, which her independent nature usually rejected. She felt protected.

"More like made an unsavoury proposition," Diana responded.

They had to lean closely and whisper to remain invisible at the heart of a large city together. She tried to take a closer look at her companion. The hood he wore concealed his features as much as her attire kept her hidden even when they were near. The man remained secretive down to a pouch he collected for their adventure. The bag kept shifting. Diana was curious what was inside and how it was going to help them. Raising her interest more, he twisted a fine rope into in a miniature lasso. If he thought to challenge her, then he had a surprise coming. No one was better than her at using such object.

"Watch the target," he advised and she glanced back at the noble without any pleasure.

The man cracked his jaw wide open in a yawn and shut his eyes. A pebbled tossed by Al bounced off a wall and smacked him into the back of his head. The man nearly bit his tongue. He jumped to throw an angry look behind him. The lasso looped around a pear, temptingly left on the plate behind him, and got whisked away. Diana nearly giggled while the man glanced up at the sky in search of the offender and then slouched back onto his seat. Another pebble bounced off a column and wacked him from a different side. "Who's there!" he yelled, jumping to his feet and going down one step to investigate. Another pear disappeared just as well. Returning to his seat, the man regarded the fruit platter in puzzlement. He thought more pears used to be on it.

Al handed over the lasso and another pebble to Diana, challenging her with a smirk to repeat his heroics. The stone was warm, carrying the heat of his hand. She hesitated, wondering what would happen is the Princess was caught stealing pears from one of her suitors and then recalled how this worthless person who never worked a day in his life thought he was worthy of succeeding her brother. Her brows furrowed meanly and she hurled the stone as hard as she could. The pebble didn't ricochet as intended. It slammed soundly into the head of a bloodthirsty jackal that snoozed on the terrace, intimidating all thieves with his mere presence. The beast yelped and jumped, nearly turning over the table. Unkindly pulled out of the sweet dreams, he nearly sunk his teeth into his master's leg.

"Curses on your flea bitten hide, worthless mongrel! I don't waste food on your bottomless pit of a stomach to snap at me!"

Among the chastisement, two more pears were hooked together and carried off. With a low growl, the jackal retreated to the other end of the terrace. The noble fell flat back onto the pillows. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. At least half of the pears were gone. Fruits didn't disappear by themselves! With no one else to blame, the man threw a suspicious look at his pet, which yawned, revealing a set of teeth far more fitting for chewing raw meat than garden growth. Scratching his head, the noble suddenly glanced at the wall directly where the pair was hidden.

A strong, agile body pinned Diana to the wall crest, escaping being seen. The ground was far away. Her cloak folds floated off the edge. The danger wasn't what sped up her heart. It didn't settle once the steady weight lifted and she was pulled into a sitting position. How had someone she barely met, managed to slip beyond her shields so easily? "I see you are holding back. I got two in one try," she challenged to push their interaction back to a harmless game. But, if it was just game, why had she entrusted her life to a complete stranger?

Willing to continue, he shrugged, having prepared in advance to top any challenge and demonstratively picked up the squirming pouch. Like an illusionist, Al pulled a wiggly furball out and threw it at the napping beast. Screeching up a storm, the monkey flipped through the air in a messy entanglement of limbs and crashed into the jackal's muzzle. Ill predisposed after being hassled and dragged around in a soft prison, the animal sunk its teeth vengefully into the scavenger's nose.

The beast leapt several feet into the air with an enraged yowl. The carpets and pillows fell victim to the furry hurricane of teeth and paws. Having decimated the terrace, the monkey instincts launched the animal up the branches of the surrounding trees, which weren't tall enough to escape the huge teeth snapping at its tail. The enraged jackal tore through the garden like a lumberjack.

"Stop, you monstrous garbage eater! Those trees are expensive," screamed the owner, running after the demolishing duo and tearing at his hair. The roars and shouts got a reaction from the servants who emerged from the house and began chasing the bewildered animals too.

In mayhem, Wayne snuck onto the terrace and transferred the bounty into their bag. He returned to Diana's side without anyone noticing two people responsible for the chaos.

"Jump," Al ordered.

Without giving Diana any time to doubt, he pulled her down from the wall into the outer world. His arm looped around her waist, motioning her atop of him to break the fall as they tumbled into a haystack. This didn't end the fluent motion guiding them. Without shaking off the hay, they were running once more. The emotions bubbled inside her and spilled into laughter. Left and then right and over the fences, it was a long run until Diana was led into the recess of an abandoned watchtower that enveloped them in cool darkness. An old plank crunched under her foot. Dust tickled the nose. The invisible cobwebs embraced the outsiders who advanced upwards, climbing the broken stairs. Her eyes hadn't adjusted so quickly to the light, but Wayne knew exactly where to step and guided her. A few bats dislodged from the ceiling. One of their wings brushed her shoulder.

"Can you climb?"

At the affirmative, a rope was pressed into her hands. Her companion began climbing first towards a blue square above them. He reached the roof quickly and when she got close grabbed her arm. He lifted her easily onto the rooftop like she weighted nothing.

"It's beautiful."

With the city behind them and the magnificence of the desert stretching beyond the horizon ahead, the landscape glowed gold.

"It is," Al agreed, looking at her.

Diana's pure wonder and delight beautified her motion as she approached the edge to admire the play of light on the dunes. The forces of nature held freedom she longed for.

"Have you ever wanted to fly away?" she asked.

"No. I prefer to have connection with the ground."

"Oh," Diana echoed sadly, "but the burdens are so much heavier without the air to uplift them."

"It's the most truthful existence of all."

"You must be very strong then to endure it."

Diana perched up on the edge with her feet dangling above the ground. She was lost in thought, questioning whether she could do the same. Bruce sat down beside her and nudged open the bag with pears. Diana accepted and took a bite out of the delicious fruit. They watched the sky bloom pale pink as the sun drifted towards the horizon.

"Brother," she corrected after a while, reminding Al about his guess that she had a family conflict. "He asked me to admit something very painful. Should I do so, I will be left alone."

To marry without love meant to admit that she would soon lose her only family. Wayne didn't offer advice. He did not have family to cling on to. He only clung to the memories of one. Al picked up a pear too. The juice trailed down his thumb. He didn't want to be anywhere else. He didn't want to think about anything. Thoughts always ruined his feelings. His mind was always dark. It felt strange and oddly relaxing not to be doing anything. Normally, he never ceased the activity, either strained by some tasks or relaxed by others. Or maybe he was occupied by a sole task of watching this woman and moulding into her moods. There was something compelling about her, to laugh when she laughed and fight when she tossed about thunder and lightening. She reminded him of Princess Diana, except what would a princess be doing out on the streets stealing wallets in pair with a thief? Al didn't trust himself not to seek similar traces in others of a woman who bewitched him with her goddess like beauty. But, the princess wasn't real, at least not to the likes of him, while the woman beside him was alive. She was completely still, except for a gentle rise and fall of her chest. Al had a rare moment when he felt content just by sitting beside her.

"I'm not ready to return home yet," she admitted when the first stars scattered like fireflies across the night sky.

"Then you should come with me," he said simply, rising and offering her a hand up. Diana accepted again, throwing one last glance at the world beyond the white city walls.

Wayne loved the gradual transition of twilight into deepening shadows when the air tingled with a velvety quality. It instilled a sense of security, which he passed onto his companion as they travelled above the ground where the air was cooler. A gap between the two rooftops lay wider than one could jump and spun three storeys down. He looked through junk cluttering the place, choosing a sturdy pole and traversed the distance. The motion tugged at his cloak as the ground flashed below. One of the boards on the other side looked like a decent bridge, but he needn't have bothered. A slender shadow leapt from one side to the other just like he had done.

"I'm a quick study."

There was a smile in her voice. If he had doubts whether to show her their place, they dissipated. Luckily, GL was off sulking elsewhere over a drink when they climbed in through the window rather than using the stairs. She looked around not without curiosity, but not lingering too much and then returned to the window to look at the outer world. Her shapely silhouette stood out against the background of stars. When he approached she moved aside a bit, giving him room. They looked at each other. The image of Princess Diana flashed before his eyes. It was distant like the stars worshipped above. This woman was with him; her scent was of jasmines, luring him closer. Behind the hood folds lurked the outlines of soft lips. They didn't seem to mind if he reached out to remove her hood at last and claimed them. He stepped closer and...

A flood of torchlight destroyed their isolation. Wayne lashed out at the guards bursting through the door, in vain trying to reach his date who got whisked away. Two men twisted his arms behind his back, subduing the resisting prisoner.

"What is the meaning of this?" Wayne heard his new acquaintance say. The woman's voice changed to carry a note of authority.

"The Sultan ordered me to find you and bring you back to the palace, princess."

The reply coming from the red-headed Captain of the Guard was brisk and barely impressed. The lower part of her face, not hidden behind an eagle mask, belayed tension. Scouting the city for a run away was a royal pain of a mission.

"Even so, since when does being in my company qualify as a crime? Release this man at once!"

The Captain ignored the order. Her head was turned. Wayne tracked her gaze towards the corner of the room where lay a grappling hook he had been fixing in the morning before the fight. She may not have recognised the cloaked thief, but Shayera remembered the unique contraption. As the grip on him significantly loosened after Diana's order, Wayne smashed his elbow into the abdomen of one guard and wretched free, in one huge leap crossing the entire room towards the window. The outside air brushed his face and one foot made it across the threshold where he could have leapt down and disappeared.

A mace crashed into the back of his head, putting an end to his escape to freedom.


End file.
